


Baker Street Polyamory

by jaimistoryteller



Series: Baker Street Polyamory [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU-Marriage Law, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fivesome - F/M/M/M/M, Fluff, John/Sherlock/Mycroft Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyfidelity, Rimming, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, holmescest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly gets notified of a new law that has her turning to Sherlock for help, but she does not get the type of help she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Law

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phipiohsum475](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/gifts).



> **Prompt: Mandatory Sex:** underpopulated world with fertility problems leads to mandatory sex with many partners (possibly in labs) found on [Phipiohsum475 Tumbr Here](http://phipiohsum475.tumblr.com/post/111310468253/aus-i-have-never-seen)
> 
> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Decided to add the 'dubious consent' to the tags because a law like this, one that forces people to marry and copulate would take the vast majority of free will out of the question, not everyone is going to react well to it.

_Molly’s POV  
_ The day she got her notice about the new law she just about freaks out. The notice is delivered to her while she is at work by a man in a suit from the new Breeding and Family Planning Division. Since it is a slow day, she decides to read the paper work and just about loses it at work. She does not like the idea that she is going to have to take four men to her bed. Particularly not strangers who will be selected by a matchmaking company if she does not register a set of at least four partners within three months. What she needs is help, but who can she turn to?

Sherlock.

When he needed help she was there for him, hopefully he will be able to help her now. Trying not to panic, she grabs her phone and texts him, asking if it would be possible for her to come over after work in order to discuss a problem with him. She cannot describe the amount of relief that she feels when he answers quickly and agrees. Now that there is a plan, she is able to get back to work, though there is a part of her that is still concern. The rest of the day goes rather smoothly, she is extremely happy that there are no new bodies brought to her morgue because she wants to get out as soon as the night shift is here. By the time her replacement gets there, she is ready and not nearly as bubbly as normal. Thankfully he seems to understand, apparently his wife got a similar notice and took the day off in order to plan.

For a minute she considers heading home to get changed and cleaned up but changes her mind, selecting to head straight to his flat instead.

Upon getting there, she chuckles when she spots the note on the door telling her to come upstairs and get comfortable in the living room. Shaking her head she does as it says coming up and kicking off her shoes by the door before she hangs her coat on the rack next to Sherlock and John's.  The flat smells wonderful, a combination of fresh breads, steaming vegetables, and a juicy smelling roast. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she smelled the food.

"Perfect timing Molly, dinner is just about ready to be served." John teller her as he steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a hand towel, "Sherlock said he would be out in a few minutes, he was talking with Greg on his phone in the bedroom though I did not ask what's going on, he said he would fill me in in a bit."

Blinking at him, she nods once slowly, "Alright," she just about stammers as she sits down on the sofa, knowing that John and Sherlock would want to sit in their favored seats.

"So would you like hot chocolate, tea, or coffee?" John queries, cocking his head to the side and watching her.

"Hot chocolate of course John, she has had a stressful day and women always feel better after chocolate." Sherlock states from behind the blonde doctor, "Tea for me of course."

Chuckling the doctor shakes his head, turning and going into the kitchen once more where she can hear the sound of him preparing a kettle to boil water.

"You might wish to make enough so you can give Lestrade and Mycroft cups as well, they will be here shortly." The dark-haired genius states as he settles into his seat, "Molly, if I am not mistaken the problem you want help with is the Breeding and Family Planning Division and the nasty law that comes with it?"

Again she blinks, she had expected that Sherlock would be aware, but why was Greg and Mycroft on the way over? "That is exactly the problem that I was hoping to talk to you about. You already have a plan?"

He nods once, "Are you listening John?"

"Of course, I've had to deal with seminars and training sessions for the last three months for handling the new required family dynamics of a one female, four male household, plus all of the children required." The doctor states as he sticks his head out of the kitchen for a moment, glancing between the two of them thoughtfully.

"Good, then as soon as Lestrade walks through the door like he should be here in two minutes we will get started." He states calmly, "Hello brother mine, so happy you are able to make it. Do you need help serving dinner John?"

"Nope, tell Mycroft to sit next to Molly, then Greg can use the computer chair," the doctor replies from the kitchen, "Everything is done, I'll make plates for each of you," the older man pauses for a moment, "I don't hear you sitting down Mycroft."

As she watches the taller auburn-haired man blushes, settling onto the edge of the sofa as if he is not sure he really wants to be seated. Moments later, John comes out of the kitchen carrying a large tray with three plates on it. He stops in front of the coffee table, setting the tray down for the moment and lifting the first plate which he hands to her, the second plate he hands to Mycroft, and the third plate he carries over to hand to Sherlock. He then grabs the tray and heads back into the kitchen, coming back out with two more plates and five mugs just as Greg comes walking in.

"Take your plate and the cup to the left," the doctor directs the silver-haired detective inspector.

"Thanks John," the older man remarks as he takes the mug and plate, heading over to the computer desk and using his foot to pull it out.

Nodding, the doctor sets the tray down on the table beside his seat before lifting to mugs up, one he passes to Mycroft and the other to her. Then he grabs the second to last mug and passes it to Sherlock before clearly stating, "Start talking."

She giggles as Sherlock rolls his eyes and intentionally eats a few more bites before he does so. A part of her is shocked to see him eating since she knows he does not like to take in a lot of food, neither does the one beside her now that she thinks about it.

Eventually he begins after taking a long sip of his tea. "Five years ago a group of scientists pointed out a worldwide problem. The global population is dropping due to low birthrates and the even bigger problem was the fact that only one in every ten children is female, of the males only every one in three is able to produce viable sperm. Six months ago a new law was introduced that would legally require polyandrous marriages with one female and at least four males. That law was officially passed three months ago. It goes into effect in one week. Starting next Monday all males and females between the ages of twenty and fifty still able to produce children must find a female to join." He pauses to take a few bites of his dinner and sip at his tea. "You are a female required to find four male partners, us four are all required to find a female partner. Since John, Mycroft, and I are already in a relationship, Greg does not want to go back to his ex, and you need four males that you know and can trust, my suggestion is the five of us file to keep the idiots off of our backs."

She is not sure who is more shocked, her or Greg. It is apparent from John's blush that he had already considered this. While Mycroft's avoidance of looking at anyone speaks volumes to her. Did Sherlock really just suggest that the five of them get together? Had she heard right when he said that he was in a relationship with both his brother and the doctor? She thought that John was not gay? Was Greg just an after thought or did he really think that he would be a good fit? It is true they are all friends but that does not mean that that will translate into a relationship. Still, of all of the options she could have to deal with, this one was a bit less traumatic though she really wants to make sure that she is hearing him right.

"You and him and him?" she eventually stutters out, pointing to each in turn, she rarely stutters except for when she is feeling stressed or embarrassed.

Sherlock bobs his head once, "Do keep up Molly. John, Mycroft, and I are in a relationship. Greg needs a relationship. You do not want strangers for your relationship. Thus the five of us in this room make a perfect consideration." the dark-haired man finishes his tea, setting his mug aside and continuing "Greg has found you attractive since the first Christmas John lived here. John is heterosexual primary and sapiosexual secondary." A smirk curves the genius' lips, "In answer to  your unspoken question about him and 'not gay'."

A blush colors her cheeks as she considers the situation.

"Now to prove compatibility: I suggest that each of us kisses you," the dark-haired genius states clearly.

The blush on her cheeks darkens further and she finds that she cannot respond no matter how hard she tries. Eventually she nods once, looking between the four of them.

"John, you're the biggest ladies man in the room, why don't you start the process, then Greg, Mycroft, and myself." The dark-haired man directs, stormy eyes turning towards the doctor.

For a long moment the two of them share a conversation in looks before the doctor turns his attention to the politician, raising a single eyebrow questioningly. She is greatly intrigued by this, amazed at the simple communication between the three of them. Particularly since before tonight she thought that there was nothing but friendship between the two brothers and John, and hostility between the brothers. According to the look on Greg's face he hadn't known either.

Shrugging, the doctor stands and walks over to the sofa. Kneeling beside her, he raises that same questioning eyebrow at her, a small smile curving his lips. Slowly she nods once, accepting the question in his eyes. He cups her jaw in his short, slightly calloused fingers before leaning forward to kiss her slowly, starting off with nothing more than a brush of his lips against hers. Tilting his head a slight bit he runs his tongue across the seam of her lips and smiles as she opens up beneath him, her eyes fluttering shut as she finds herself kissed in a way she has never been kissed before. When he pulls away she can do nothing more than stare at him in shock through hooded eyes.

"Damn, that's hot," she hears the detective inspector mutter from his chair as he slowly stands up.

Slightly smirking, John retreats to the arm of the sofa rather than his chair, perching on it with his body angled towards Mycroft.

The detective inspector takes the spot that the doctor had just left, "May I?" he inquires softly, waiting for her to answer before he lifts a hand to hold the back of her neck while he leans close and presses their lips together softly. If the kiss from John was full of fire, this kiss is a much more sedate pace, far gentler and curious. Its a kiss that shows need and longing. Pulling back slowly, he smiles at her questioningly before releasing her and going to sit back down in his chair.

That leaves Mycroft and Sherlock. After those two she is not sure how she can handle that idea, particularly if either or both of them put the same type of energy into the kiss as well. Mycroft, who is seated beside her, flushes as he watches her for a moment. According to the expression in his eyes he is not sure he really wants to be doing this. Beside him, the doctor puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly before nodding in her direction. It makes her wonder if perhaps John and Sherlock had discussed this plan previously for him to be so accepting of the situation. A small part of her does not want to do this. It's more than enough to have the passion with the two, but if it's all four, well that could get into dangerous territory. How would that relationship work and balance? Finally the politician scoots a little bit closer, he is still stiff as a board and his eyes declaring this is not his favorite idea. He runs his tongue along the seam of his lips, drawing her attention. Her eyes follows the movement, and she decides to lean forward instead of waiting for him. It is apparent this is not on his agenda as a good time, but maybe, if this has any chance of working they can come to a balance?

A jolt goes through her when his dry lips press against hers slowly, what starts out as a chaste kiss ends up being nearly as deep as the doctor's. Only it has a more clinical feel to it, like he is studying her during the process. She pulls back after a minute to watch the information flicker through his eyes. The impression she gets is that he is pleased if not satisfied. It's a start anyways.

She has barely gotten past Mycroft's clinical kiss when it is Sherlock looming before her. Where two of the other three ask her permission, and she had to kiss the third, he does not. Instead, he captures her face between his long finger hands and slants his head to the side before kissing her. Her eyes flutter shut as he takes the time to explore her lips, teeth, and mouth, nibbling on her lower lip. When he is done there is a self-satisfied expression on his face as if he has proven a point. Which technically he has, now she just has to consider the ramifications.

How would they even come close to making this work? The logistics seem impossible. But then, considering that two of the people are genius', well perhaps not. 

"Now then, dinner here tomorrow night at seven pm to finish discussing this since both Molly and Greg seem to need the time to process?" the doctor questions before he glances at the politician and suggests, "Can your driver see them to their flats?"

"Indeed," the auburn-haired man responds with a nod, pulling his phone out and quickly making a phone call.

A few minutes later she finds herself in the back of the plush car with the detective inspector. It is not long after that, that the car stops in front of her building and the driver gets out in order to open her door and inquire if she needs an escort to which she declines. As she heads into her flat her mind keeps whirling over the craziness of the day. The real crazy part is she is even considering doing it.


	2. Reassurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> In case anyone did not understand the Holmescest warning, please understand that there two brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock, having sex with each other.

_John's POV  
_ After Molly and Greg are gone, he shifts his positioning so he is closer to auburn-haired politician, lightly wrapping his arms around the taller man. He does not say anything. Instead he simply holds him while he processes. Early on, when they were first building their unusual relationship he had discovered that when processing emotional information it was best to just give the brothers quiet, steady reassurance through touch rather than words. So any time there is an emotional situation he just lightly hugs the older man, letting him know he is there in case he wants to talk. For a while the two of them stay there like that, Mycroft seated on the sofa while he is on the arm of it, the taller man leaning slightly against him as he thinks. Eventually Sherlock decides to join them, his long limbs folding upon himself as he settles on the sofa next to his older brother, resting his head against the older man's shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around his lower waist. Slowly the politician loops his arms around his brother's upper body.

"Why don't we retreat to the room where there is more space?" he suggests softly, gently kissing the top of the auburn-haired man's head.

Several more minutes pass before the brothers slowly get to their feet. The dark-haired genius first, standing and offering a hand to his brother. Tiredly the politician accepts his hand and stands. A moment later he stands as well and follows as the two taller men head into the bedroom. Stopping to turn of the lights in the flat off. Inside the room he waits to see what they are thinking before doing anything. He is not surprised when the pair shares a look before turning to him. It is not the first time they have done that and probably will not be the last time.

There is something in the older brothers expression, a look that years of dealing with the politician allows him to understand is his version of concern.

Each brother picks a side, his dark-haired genius behind him, fitted against his back, while his auburn-haired genius is in front of him. Slowly the two brothers set about undressing him, stripping away layer after layer of clothing. Slender violinist fingers map his back and sides while long pianist fingers graze over his front. He relaxes, enjoying the simple matter of their touch, understanding that it is not about sex right now, but about reassuring themselves that they were still connected. The impression he gets is this is more for Mycroft than Sherlock. After he is completely bare, he turns his attention to slowly stripping the older man, the dark-haired brother doing so around him while still pressed close to his back. Slowly the two of them strip the oldest one of his clothing. Upon finishing the eldest in the rooms clothing, he turns to help strip the youngest only to find him step back and shed his clothes far too fast for his tastes.

A soft chuckle escapes him when the dark-haired genius nearly falls on his face while he attempts to get his socks, pants, and trousers off without first taking off his shoes.

Once all three of them are completely undressed the boffin climbs on the bed first, taking the side closest to the wall. Next is the politician, curling so his back is pressed close against his brothers chest, their long legs almost equally pressed together. He gets in last after turning the lights off, and tugs the blankets up over top of the three of them as he snuggle up to the front of the politician's chest, facing him. Slowly his short finger caress over the tall man's freckled body, gently touching every part of his body that he can reach. His touch is not designed to arouse but to comfort.

Before tonight the three of them had discussed this law on several occasions, each time the oldest of their trio had expressed anger over it. Mycroft was part of a group trying to get artificial growth treatments legalized so that this would not have to happen but a rather outspoken set of scientists had managed to convince too many people that it would not work, that the only answer was to return to a time when women had multiple partners in order to produce children. So they had come up with the inane law. When it became obvious that there was going to be no avoiding it, he had had a panic attack, just about hyperventilating because he was worried that they were going to be separated in order to fulfil the law's requirements. After all, what were the chances that they could find a female willing to deal with both brothers? They had spent nearly four hours trying to reassure him and calm him down, the dark-haired genius reassuring his brother he would come up with an answer.

He had never considered Molly as an option for their female partner. However now that it had been suggested he understands perfectly well where his flatmate is coming from. It's perfect actually. She has spent years dealing with the two of them, able to handle their mood swings and power plays. She finds Sherlock attractive at the minimum, and he is able to find her attractive. Though the joke is he got his nickname because of the fact he likes all women in some way, shape, or form. Greg on the other hand, well there had been several times they had discussed inviting him into their bed, but not wanting to sour the working relationship between the four of them had been a big part as to why they had not. After all, the only one they are aware of the detective inspector being attracted to is Mycroft. Still, it is a logical choice. All five of them work together in some way or form, they have at least a loose friendship, Molly is friends with Sherlock, and he is friends with Greg.

Eventually he feels the stress draining out of the older man and he drifts off to sleep. Tilting his head slightly, he smiles at the dark-haired genius over the auburn-haired genius head in the low light. It takes awhile but he also falls asleep to the sound of their steady breathing.

He is awaken several hours later by the sound of the politician's phone going off. Groaning, he rolls slightly and gets off the bed, heading over to the pile of clothing on the floor to fetch it. A quick look at the number confirms what the ring tone had already told him about it being Anthea.

"Hello Anthea," he answers it, "One moment, he's waking up."

"Hello John," she replies conversationally then queries, "Bad night?"

"Yeah, you know he is not happy about this new law." He remarks as he watches the older man stretch and blink at him tiredly.

"Well I do not actually need him, I figured it was a bad night when I did not hear from him about the issue we dealt with yesterday. I arranged his schedule to have today off." She tells him, he can just about hear the smirk in her voice as she continues, "I have also arranged for you to have today off as well."

Chuckling, he responds, "Thanks, I'll let him know."

"Have a good day, make sure he relaxes John. I need him in good health and that does not happen if he frets himself sick." The PA instructs him before hanging up on him without giving him a chance to answered.

"What did she want?" his politician asks sleepily.

Climbing back into bed, he answers the tall man, "We have the day off, you are not to fret, and I am to make sure you relax."

"I don't fret," the older man grumbles as he pulls him closer.

He cannot help the laugh that escapes him, "Right and I am a strip-pole dancer."

In the dim light of the early morning he can see the smile tugging at the politician's lips.

Tilting his head back, he stretches up and kisses the taller man softly.

Groaning quietly, his auburn-haired lover lifts a hand to cup his jaw, kissing him back, and deepening the kiss. When they finally break apart, both are breathing heavy and he can see the third member of their relationship watching them hotly.

"Everything will work out perfectly. The three of us will stay together, and occasionally we will have two other partners." The dark-haired boffin remarks as he shifts down a bit in order to nibble at his brother's throat. "It took too long for us to get everything worked out. I am not letting a bunch of idiots ruin it." Long slender fingers start tracing over the muscles of the one in the middle as he sets to gently sucking on the curve between shoulder and neck.

A low moan escapes the tall politician as he tilts his head forward to expose his neck further.

Grinning mischievously, he uses the fact he is shorter to his advantage, kissing, licking and nibbling on the oldest in their trios collarbone.

Long, smooth fingers grasp at his hips as the older man moans again. "Mgnmmm, I don't think this is what she meant by relaxing." he states a bit breathlessly.

"Actually, this is probably exactly what she means," he playfully replies. "She understands exactly how relaxing a good shag can be."

"John, no talking about his assistant while we are in bed if you please," Sherlock orders him, pausing his administrations on his brother's throat.

Chuckling, he shifts to kissing the other side of his collarbone, delighting in the fact he can feel the taller man getting aroused between them. "I say we fuck your brother until his brain shuts off."

"Or take turns doing so. It's been awhile since I have sucked him down," the youngest of their number replies as his slender fingers hold onto Mycroft's hips, pulling his brother backwards as he grinds himself against his ass.

"Gnnnn," the politician groans, "Do I not get it a say in this?"

Sighing dramatically the dark-haired brother states, "Oh, if you must."

"I want to ride our doctor," the auburn-haired brother remarks, blushing at his own crudeness.

"Sounds good to me," the boffin replies with a smirk.

Chuckling, he sprawls on his back and motions down his body, "Have at it."

Slipping out of the youngest grasp, the oldest straddles his hips so that his cock is rubbing against his hole. Long, pale fingers trace over the scars and marks that mar his skin.

Smirking, Sherlock slides behind his brother, stretching out on bed and out of his sight, he feels what the youngest is doing as his long fingers stroke his length, his tongue swirling between his prick and his brother's ass. Mycroft moans, sinking forward so his ass is in the air. Since the politician is now level with his head, he proceeds to kiss the taller man senseless, taking pleasure in all of the noises he is making. He can feel when the youngest brother starts to work the elder open because Sherlock sucks on him, while his clever fingers work his brother open. His own hands are kneading the muscles in politicians back, shoulders, and sides as he continues to kiss him.

Sitting up suddenly, the dark-haired genius tugs hard on his brother, pulling him upright and at the same time sinking the auburn-haired man on his cock. Both of them gasp, him from the sudden tight, hot friction surrounding his cock, while he is sure that Mycroft is doing so from having him up his ass so suddenly. While the politician adjusts to him being buried within him, his brother scurries around to the front, kneeling so his member is brushing against his lips while he just about folds himself in half in order to suck his brother. Smirking he uses his hands to grab Sherlock's hips while he uses his moth to suck on the dark-haired genius, though it is an odd angle and takes some effort to so. Despite the awkwardness of it all, they find a rhythm.  Mycroft rotates his hips in a grinding motion, which causes Sherlock to rock back and forth as he moves with his brother. Soon he feels the dark-haired brother's cock thickening and growing heavier as he gets closer to coming, since he is not sure that he would be able to swallow without chocking, he releases his lovers cock just before he feels him coming but continues to tongue and kiss him in order keep him on the edge. Sure enough, the boffin is soon coming, moaning around his brothers cock which happens to set him off according to the sounds coming from him and the fact that his muscles clinch around his girth. It is that clinching that triggers his orgasm.

Afterwards, Sherlock falls to his side, head resting on his hip while Mycroft falls backwards, a slight pop being the most noticeable noise in the air besides their heavy breathing.

"Now that we have delightfully worn ourselves out, lets get cleaned up and then have some breakfast. Both of you are eating, even if it is nothing more than a piece of fruit or toast." He tells the brothers when he finally catches his breath.

Both of them groan, though it sounds like a suppressed laugh out of the elder.


	3. Thoughtful Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I got help from Amythe3lder with Mycroft's POV since he was being a bit of a pain while I was writing. Thanks Amy!

_Mycroft’s POV_  
As the steaming hot water pours down his back there is a slight sting when it goes over his arse. Smiling, he thinks about the minutes and hours prior to his shower. How it had felt to be curled up in Sherlock's and their doctor’s arms while his mind was processing his brother’s idea. From there, his mind turns to his brother folded prostrate before him, sucking him off while their doctor sucked Sherlock. For three men in their thirties, they are very flexible; at least his brother and the doctor are, he is not so much. With a small shake of his head he is called back to the mild discomfort in his rear due to the fact his brother had only barely prepared him, working him open just enough that John could slide in and he could ride their doctor, but not enough that there is not a small reminder. Of course, that was intentional: his brother knew that the pleasure-pain could override the remains of his emotional panic from the previous night. He rolls his shoulders and smirks to himself as he recalls every lovely detail and absently reaches for his body wash.

A chuckle escapes him as he realizes that he had grabbed the doctor’s sandalwood body wash rather than his or his brother's. Well, he did have the day off and was not planning on leaving the flat unless he absolutely had to. Smelling like his blonde lover was not going to be an issue and it would be comforting for the stressfulness that he is sure that later today will bring.

Once he is cleaned up, he climbs out of the shower and grabs one of the extra fluffy towels that John had purchased just for his use when he is home. After drying, he dresses in the black silk pajamas his brother had bought him for Christmas, delighting in the soft, slick feeling against his skin.

He smiles when he walks into the living room and spots his drawing supplies, a plate with a variety of fruits, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting for him on the coffee table by the sofa. Heading into the kitchen, he stops behind the doctor, leaning down in order to gently press his lips to the blonde man’s pulse point.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly before kissing him one more time.

Despite the fact the doctor is facing away, he knows he is smiling by the way his jaw twitches as he nods.

Turning away, he leaves the doctor to his cooking, heading back into the main room to sprawl on the sofa and proceed to nibble at the fruit while absent-mindedly drawing and considering the situation with a clear mind.

He is actually fond of the detective inspector. The older man had been of great assistance to his brother and him on several different occasions and not just because he allows his brother to work cases. There have been several times he has considered approaching the detective inspector in the past. Each time he had decided against it because he had not wanted to upset the stability that he has with his doctor and brother. Everything he has ever noted on the silver-haired man told him that he preferred monogamy and did not wish to be a part of a polyamorous relationship. Now because of this new law he will have a chance for what he wants with the detective inspector. Despite that, he still hates the law and all the damage it is going to cause in the long run.

He had considered Anthea, but she already had a list written up and he did not want to interfere with her selection process. Shockingly enough, he had decided not to look at his assistant's list, he had merely asked her to notify him when she had selected. Truthfully he did not want to bed anyone other than his brother, the doctor, and the detective inspector. Even with them it had taken years- and John ‘Not Gay Three Continents’ Watson kissing him one day during an argument- before he had admitted that.

As for Molly, he never would have considered her as a viable choice. She is actually a good selection for their unusual relationship and the marriage he would have to deal with. She has several admirable traits including the fact she is loyal, independent, determined, gentle, educated, and not as stupid as the vast majority of people. Making use of her sense of humor, Molly has shown herself to be able to deal with his brother’s dramatic moods which mean she would be able to handle his. On the down side, he is not a fan of pets, she can be very emotional at times, and he gets the impression that she is clingy. Still, it is a good option, hopefully she will accept it.

Of course, this damned law means that they will have to figure out living arrangements. According to it, the five must live in close proximity and the female must have sex with each male in the group at least once a month. He is not certain how that part of the law is going to be enforced, but it is still a requirement. What he does know is that all females have to go through monthly testing for pregnancy. Another thing he is aware of is the fact his brother would not want to leave Baker Street. Truthfully speaking, neither would he or John. While he is not here all the time, it is a place of refuge. Perhaps it would be possible to purchase the building and the ones on either side of it in order to remodel the property into suites for each of them. The only question is: how can he to do so without making his doctor feel like he is inadequate? His brother would not care, but John would. That’s even before considering the other two and their feelings on the matter.

“Stop thinking about the situation so loudly Myt,” his doctor orders, interrupting his thinking by leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. “We will deal with it,” the smaller man continues over to Sherlock’s seat in order to place the steaming mug of tea and plate with his sausage, egg, and cheese croissants.

Flushing slightly, he looks up at the doctor nodding once before glancing down at the image he is sketching and smiling. He had drawn John from that first time they kissed, the John who had shoved him against a wall during an argument and pinned him. Now he just needs to color and shade it.

For now he will listen to the younger man and stop focusing on the situation. Instead he will work on his sketching, perhaps compose a song or two for his flute or piano. Maybe even work on composing something to play with his brother. It has been a while since he has done that.

o-O-o

_Sherlock’s POV_  
Not long after his brother lounges on the sofa and sets to eating his breakfast while sketching he heads into the bathroom to take a shower himself. On his way there, he pauses in the kitchen in order to kiss the back of John’s neck. Once he is in the bathroom he notices that it smells off, it is not his brother’s scent. Instead it is their doctor and his bloggers. Oh. Mycroft used John’s products instead of his own. Probably as a way to use scent memory. That is a good idea. He will do the same thing.

Despite the fact that he does not like when most people touch him, he is a very tactile person and enjoys the touch of his brother or his blogger. He enjoyed the cuddling last night and the sex this morning. On nights where he is alone with John, he tends to curl himself around the smaller man whether he is planning on sleeping or not, enjoying the feeling of the doctor's solid body being pressed against his. While on nights it is all three of them he curls himself around whoever is in the middle and makes sure that he can touch the other with his hands at least.

Would he feel the same about Greg or Molly eventually?

Greg is a well built specimen, he is not fat nor is he too skinny. The silver streaked dark brown hair looks good against his naturally tan skin. His eyes are a rich dark brown, very speaking, and full of life. He dresses semi-formally, with clothing selected to fit even if not bespoke. While he might call the detective inspector an idiot, he is actually fairly intelligent compared to most of the goldfish and fools roaming around. The detective inspector is very loyal and one of the most determined people he has ever met. That older man had seen him at his worse and yet had stayed with him, encouraged him, supported him through some of his darkest hours spoke volumes for his character.

Molly is attractive enough for a woman, though he feels that her breasts and lips are too small. Her best physical feature is her vibrant hair. Depending on the lighting it can appear to be chocolate brown, nearly black, streaked with auburn or gold brown, or a combination of them all. She has expressive amber brown eyes. Like John she wears some of the ugliest jumpers. It is not her looks that make her however, it is her personality. During that horrible time when he was dealing with Moriarty, she was one of the only people besides his brother that he trusted to help him. She is honest, loyal, and the only person besides his blogger that he considers a friend.

Due to this idiotic law he would have to have sex with her at least once to confirm the marriage and after that once monthly. It was not something he was looking forward to doing. However he refuses to end up in prison or worse one of their labs being forced to copulate with utter strangers. He would not lose his little family because of this law.

He is not worried about her getting pregnant, he is certain between John and Greg that it will be a sure thing within a short period of time. Though of course, there is always a chance that either Mycroft or him would get it her pregnant during the wedding night sex. Of course, once there are children they will have to ensure their safety, since four of their five have unsafe jobs that would become even more vital.

On the plus side, at least he likes children unlike other adults. Children are curious, willing to learn, honest in a way that only children can be, and far more curious than adults. They can be cruel and yet they are willing to be accepting of differences.

Another positive thing is the fact there is a very small chance that any children born into their household will be stupid. Both Mycroft and him are geniuses, while the other three are above average in intelligence even if it is not the same type of intelligence as his. He is also certain that their children would be compassionate since three of the five of them have compassion and empathy.

Getting done washing, he climbs out of the shower and towels off before dressing in his favorite pajama pants and house robe. Leaving the bathroom the first thing he smells is his breakfast. Apparently his blogger had made him sausage, cheese, egg, and croissant sandwiches. Walking into the living room, he spots his a plate and steaming mug of tea on the table next to his seat. Grinning, he heads over to his seat, settling into and nibbling at his breakfast sandwich. It is the perfect temperature which means John had just finished it for him.

A few minutes later his blogger comes into the living room with a plate of his own and settles into his chair. For a time the three of them are silent.

He is busy thinking about how they will rearrange the flat, including purchasing the flats on either side in order to have the required room for five adults plus however many children they will need. Sadly, this means he will no longer be able to experiment in the kitchen but perhaps he will be able to get 221C turned into a lab. They will need at least four adult bedroom suites, a nursery, four children’s rooms, library, instrument room, study, client room, and his lab. It would probably be easier to move but he does not want to leave Baker Street.

When he finishes his breakfast he sets the dishes aside and stands, going over to the music stand and his violin. He will work on composing today while he thinks about the situation that they find themselves in since his brother is on the sofa, how to go about getting John to agree to the purchase and renovation of the flats, and convincing the other two as necessary. He’s moderately certain he will have to use that tact that he is not well versed in using in order to get the other two to agree.

 

o-O-o

  
_Molly’s POV_  
When she wakes up she is still in shock over the previous night. Of all the possible ideas that Sherlock could have suggested that was not anywhere on her list of possibilities. Instead of avoiding it or overcoming it he suggested that she joins an already established relationship between the doctor and the Holmes brother’s. Then to confuse her more he had invited the Detective Inspector Lestrade into the same union, completing the five required by law.

Could she do it? Could she marry Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, and Greg Lestrade? If she did whose last name would she take? Or would they have her last name? Or would they keep their own last names? Or would they keep their own last names and then hyphenate hers to it? How would they name the children that are going to be a result of this law? Would they tell any of the children they had which man was their father or would they act like all four were father? Where would they live? How would the money work?

She had been completely shocked when Sherlock had suggested that each of the men kiss her to show that there was compatibility between them. Even more surprising was her reactions to each.

While she was aware that John was known as a ladies’ man by the yarders and some of the folks at the hospital she had not expected the kiss to leave her so disoriented and wanting more. She had never wanted a kiss to go on as much as she had that one. Before last night she never would have considered John as a candidate for anything more than the friendship she has slowly built with him over the years. But now, now she wonders what else he can do. If he kisses like that she is certain that they will be able to get past any other physical issues there might be.

Then there is Greg, for all the passion of John, there was longing in him. Her kiss with him had been far less shocking, particularly since she had thought him attractive for a while now, but she had never thought that he would find her attractive. So there was hope there, particularly if they were actually able to build something despite the fact that the relationship did not come around naturally. Actually, since the other three are already together, perhaps they would build their own relationship and then mix the two relationships together.

There is not really any attraction between herself and Mycroft, but she got the feeling that he is shy and uncomfortable with touch. Maybe there could be something more there but it would definitely take time. Of the four, he is the only one that she did not have a surprising reaction to. She had not expected much to come of their kiss but there had been a small zing, the potential and that alone required reflection. Particularly since in the past she had seen him as more of a danger than a person to become good friends with. What small friendship she felt towards him was years of helping when Sherlock was going through his bad times, most of which stopped when he got John, and the fact that she had helped Sherlock to fake his own death with Mycroft. 

Last is Sherlock, she has liked him for years and only realized nothing would ever come of her desires when she had helped him with his fake suicide. When he had pressed his lips to hers the previous night she had been shocked by the thrill that sung through her. His kiss was as passionate and world shifting as John’s. That crush that she thought that she had under control and was getting over came roaring back to life in the time between he had taken her face in his hands and when he had stepped back. He was actually the one that she thought was going to be the hardest to deal with because of the emotional swings she had seen from him in the past. Past that, she worried that she would want more than he would be willing to give. After all, before John he had disdained all emotions.

What about the children? She had not planned on having any, preferring her pets. Now she was expected to have at least four of them by the law. If she tried to avoid it, she would be imprisoned and impregnated, which she would really like to avoid. How would they take care of them? How would the blokes react to them? How would she actually feel about them? Would she love them because they were hers or would she resent them because they were not her choice? She did not want to resent her own children. That would be horrible. Maybe the idea of them would grow on her eventually.

What about her pets? She has a cat, two koi, and a macaw. She would prefer not to lose them. If she has to move would she be able to take them with her? Are any of the blokes allergic to animals?

All in all, she had a lot to think about before seven pm. Maybe it would be best if she made some lists.

 

o-O-o

_Greg's POV  
_ He had been in shock when he went to bed and had not really had a chance to consider what Sherlock had suggested. Originally he had planned on considering the situation when he got up over breakfast only he received a call from Donovan about a double murder at four am. It had been a relatively easy case but paperwork is time consuming. Now at nearly eleven am and his mind is just turning to the situation he finds himself in because of the changes in marriage laws. Actually there is a series of meetings scheduled next week to discuss that new law and how it will affect all departments.

Sherlock had called me over just to suggest I marry Molly, John, Mycroft, and him? He thinks to himself as he makes a coffee in his office, Why me?

He can understand why Molly, after all she is one of the only females in Sherlock’s life that he seems to respect who is within the required age. The fact that Sherlock is in a relationship with John is not surprising, the fact that John is in a relationship with both Holmes brothers on the other hand is. His thoughts are interrupted by his second before he has a chance to get even further into the subject.

"Greg, you ready for lunch?" Donovan asks from his door, a frustrated look on her face.

He glances at the coffee he had just made and sighs before answering, "Yeah," he sets it aside. He’ll dump it when they get back.

From past experience he knows she will pay for the lunch since she asked using his first name. It means that she wants to have a serious talk with him without everyone else being able to hear them. Leaving the office, the two of them walk to a small hole in the wall Chinese restaurant just down the road from work. During the walk and taking their seats both are quiet.

"You wanted to talk?" he asks after they place their orders.

She nods, "Do you have a plan Greg? I hope you’re not considering going back to Caroline."

He shakes his head, replying softly, "I'm not going back to Caroline. Last night I was made an offer I am considering but until I finish weighing the pros and cons I would rather not discuss it. What about you?"

A sad look crosses her face before she answers, "I cannot have kids due to an accident as a teenager. So I will be required to only marry sterile men however I have longer to decide who than women who can have kids."

Both fall silent until after the waitress brings their food. He knows about the accident because it is in her file but had not realized there had been after effects. Of course, he had not actually read the accident report, feeling that if she wanted him to know she would tell him about it. Part of him is curious if that accident had affected her career path choices but he was not going to pry.

“Can I ask who the offer is from?” she queries as she tilts her head to the side.

“Let me think on it some more first. I do not want any outside opinions until I have had a chance to think it through.” He replies after he finishes his bite to eat.

“Alright,” she remarks, taking a few more bites herself. “Do you know why this damn law was passed?”

He nods, in the middle of chewing a piece of chicken, then takes a quick drink to wash it down, “Yeah, there is only one woman for every ten men and only one in every three men is able to produce viable sperm. Past that the population has been dropping due to low birthrates.” He replies, recalling the explanation for the law that the consulting detective had given him the previous night. “Apparently someone thought the only way to improve birth rates was to force people able to have children into relationships together to produce kids.”

She shakes her head before taking a sip of her tea, “Wow. That sounds stupid, there has to be a better way. Do you know if it is localized?”

It takes him a minute to answer because he is finishing up his lunch, “Global.”

She shakes her head again, according to her expression she is in shock over that. “Well Anderson and I are off again. Dunno if we will get back together again.”

“Just be careful, I don’t know the entire law, but for one that forces marriages, I am betting stepping out is probably not going to be rewarded.” He warns her as he drops some money on the table and stands.

“I’m paying, keep your money,” she tells him as she grabs the bill and heads to the counter.

Sighing, he lifts most of it, but leaves a generous tip before he follows Donovan out.

As they walk back to the office his thoughts turn back to the problem at hand and considering his options. Does he really want to tie himself to that particular group of people or does he want to try and find a different group? Though really, he’s friends with Molly and John, gets along with Mycroft, and has always been fond of Sherlock though not sexually. He definitely needs to think about it some more before going to dinner tonight.

o-O-o

_John's POV  
_ He is certain his boys are trying to figure out the best logistics of this situation. He is equally sure that Mycroft is trying to come to grips with the idea of having to deal with two other people regularly. Since he has not actually read the law, he does not know the particulars but he has a feeling that staying in close proximity is part of it. Personally he has already considered the options and decided to go with Sherlock’s plan. He likes both Molly and Greg. It would not be hard to add them to their lives. Though if he remembers correctly Molly has a couple of pets and he will have to make sure that Sherlock understands that he cannot experiment on the pets.

Actually Sherlock will have to stop experimenting in the kitchen. Maybe they can rent out 221C for Sherlock to use.

He frowns as he does the size math before sighing.

Shit. There is no way that Baker Street would be able to handle having five people here regularly, not even counting if they have to live together. What the hell are they going to do? Hopefully his boys have a plan, because he does not.  Whatever they do, they will have to have space for at least five adults, a few kids, hobbies, work, and pets.

The only good thing he can think of with this law is the fact he does not have to figure out how to convince his boys to get a child some time down the road. Though he really would have preferred that in the long run, at least then they might have been ready as a family rather than being thrown into the situation.

Shaking his head, he decides to clean up everyone’s dishes since all three of them are done with breakfast. When he is done cleaning breakfast up, he makes his boys choice of fresh drinks before deciding to go do the shopping.

“Will you two be alright if I go to the store?” he queries from beside his chair.

Mycroft looks up from his drawing and frowns, “If you must.”

Sherlock does not say anything from his spot at the window, but then he had not expected him to.

Smiling gently at the auburn-haired politician, he steps over to the slightly older man’s place on the sofa and kneels next to him. “If you want me to stay, I’ll text the rather long list to your assistant and she can get everything needed for dinner, otherwise, all I am doing is running down to the Tesco at the end of the road to buy the stuff to make dinner. Right now I do not have enough food for five people for dinner.”

A frown curves the older man’s lips before he finally sighs and nods, “Alright, be quick please.”

Carefully cupping the auburn-haired man’s jaw he leans forward to kiss him softly. “I will be.”

Straightening up he heads to the door, grabbing his coat and getting ready to head out the door when his dark-haired lover states, “Take my card John, it’s on the kitchen table.”

“Alright love,” he replies with a chuckle.

Heading into the kitchen he quickly spots the card. Grabbing it he turns on his heel and leaves the flat. As he walks he hums, but his mind is still swirling about the details regarding how adding Molly and Greg will change their lives. He knows that Mycroft desires Greg but has not wanted to risk their relationship by bringing someone else into it. Now with this law they would have to be close together, there would be a chance for the two of them to develop their own relationship. Perhaps he should make it a point to speak with Greg about that. Bringing Molly into their relationship would be a bit harder, particularly since he knows that neither of his boys actually likes women.

Once in the Tesco, most people are talking about the new law. It seems that there is shock for the vast majority of the people and anger from some of the men. Every single person has an opinion on it, and most of it is just confusion and speculation. Grabbing a cart he starts on end of the store and makes his way across. Grabbing the various items he thinks he will need for dinner tonight and a little extra just because. All of the fruits and vegetables he double checks to make sure that they are fresh before continuing on to select a variety of meats.

When he goes up to the counter to check out, selecting the line with the human rather than the pin machine which never works well for him, he is mildly surprised to see Annemarie, a girl he dated in uni, in line before him.

She turns slightly as he starts to unload his cart onto the counter. “John?” she questions, her eyes going wide.

Smiling slightly he nods, “Hello Annemarie, how have you been?”

“Oh my god! John!” She exclaims, her eyes widening as she steps around the cart in order to give him a tight hug. “I thought you went off to war?”

He nods one more time, “I did, I got shot and got back a few years ago. Now I work as an on-call doctor in a clinic and write up a blog for my partner’s detective services,” he replies as the bloke behind the counter starts ringing him up.

She blinks at him for a moment before squealing, “You’re the John Watson with that hot consulting detective Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yeah, Sherlock is my partner,” he responds, getting a mental chuckle from the fact that she finds his partner hot.

“Do you know if he has a woman in mind for this new law?” she queries, “Do you have one?”

A low chuckle escapes him, “Sorry Annemarie, but we are both spoken for, and by the same woman too.” That was not something he had expected. Should he be expecting this to happen a lot? After the discussion tonight with Molly, if she agrees, then he will post a notice on the blog that they are both taken already. That should lessen the amount of people who ask.

“Oh, well if it doesn’t work out would you like my number?” she asks after a few minutes of staring at him blankly.

He shakes his head, “Umm no thanks Annemarie, remember we broke up because I am an adrenaline junkie. That has not changed much. Actually it’s a lot worse.”

“Oh,” she murmurs dejectedly.

Their conversation is interrupted by the cashier telling him his total. Handing over the card, he glances at Annemarie to see that she seems to be in a debate with herself right now. While she does that he puts all the groceries back in the cart, debating about how to get them home. He can either call a cab or pay a homeless person to return the cart to Tesco. Actually, he will go with the homeless person.

Though that makes him wonder how this law is going to affect the homeless, there are a lot of women who are homeless. Is the government going to round them up and force them into marriages? Hmmm, he will have to ask Mycroft about that.

Once the cashier hands back the card and receipt for him to sign, he looks at Annemarie and states, “Well I have to go, have a good one, it was nice seeing you again.”

“Oh, okay, well nice seeing you.” She replies before heading out of the building before him.

Before he leaves the cashier asks, “Can I get an autograph? My little brother is a big fan of yours. He really loves the fact you used to be in the army as a doctor and wants to do the same when he grows up.”

“Ummm, yeah, I guess,” he replies, looking at him a bit lost. He comes in here regularly. This is the first time he has ever been asked for an autograph. Normally people wanted Sherlock’s, right up until he opens his mouth and rips them to shreds.

Grinning, the kid ducks down behind the counter and comes up with a note book and pen, offering it to him, “Thanks, he will really appreciate it.”

Shaking his head slightly he asks, “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Anthony.”

_-To Anthony, If you work hard you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. Captain John Watson, MD-_

Shrugging, he hands the paper back and leaves, running into one of Sherlock’s homeless roughly halfway home. After a quick chat with the young man, the two of them finish the trip and carry everything upstairs before he hands the kid some money and the he leaves with the cart.

Chuckling, he tells his blokes about the meeting in the Tesco, hoping to make them laugh. Instead it ends up making Mycroft get tense, his eyes widening slightly as a panic attack starts for him. Shit, that was not the goal at all. Moving his auburn-haired lovers drawing supplies aside, he curls up on the sofa with him, simply hugging him until he calms back down. They will have to have a serious talk about this.


	4. Dinner Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!

_John’s POV_  
“Why don’t you work in the kitchen for a bit? I would like a word with my brother,” the dark-haired genius suggests as he settles on the sofa near his brother.

He nods, gently kissing the back of the auburn-haired man’s neck before rising to head into the kitchen. While it is mostly clean, it is not clean enough for what he is planning so his first order of business is to finish cleaning the kitchen so that he may use it. Humming, he sets to work, gathering the cleaning supplies before scrubbing the counters, walls, floor, stove, oven, and table. In the other room he can hear the soft murmurs of his boys as they discuss the situation. Part of him is bristling because he wishes to comfort his politician but knows that sometimes he needs to step back and allow the brothers to deal in their own way. What makes their unusual relationship work is the fact that they read each other so well. His boys through their ability to read people, his from the ability to watch for emotional queues others might miss out of them.

Giving a small shake of his head he continues to clean, his ears perked incase either of his boys wants his attention. Eventually he will either have to clean of the desk in order to lay out the buffet or have the boys do it, but not just yet.

*o-O-o*

_Sherlock’s POV_  
He knows that their doctor wants to comfort his brother, but right now he thinks he would do better. This is a moment where pure logic is needed, not emotion and he excels at that over their doctor. With a small smile he settles on the sofa near his brother suggesting that the shortest of their number work in the kitchen for a bit while he speaks with the oldest of their number.

As he watches the blonde kisses the back of his brother’s neck gently before nodding to him and heading into the kitchen. He can hear the smaller man gathering cleaning supplies and working on the kitchen. Ah, so he is in one of those types of moods then, that’s good to know.

“Mycroft,” his voice is quietly, “Listen to me carefully. No one is taking our John from us. He was trying to make us chuckle at her foolishness, not upset either of us. I am ninety-seven percent positive that Molly will agree, I am eighty-four percent positive that Greg will agree as well. That will fulfill the required four males and one female. Trust that John will be able to guide us through any situation we may have difficulties with.” He scoots closer to his brother, cupping the older man’s jaw softly, “Trust him to take care of us. He’s been doing so for years hasn’t he?”

His brother’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch, a small sigh escaping his lips. “It is difficult,” he eventually mutters, “I strongly disdain the situation we find ourselves in.”

For a few moments the two of them are silent, his hands still warm on his brother's skin.

Closing his eyes tiredly, “He’s ours, I do not want to share,” his brother’s voice is quiet and keening, almost inaudible.

“I know. I do not want to share him either.” He remarks just as softly.

Leaning forward slightly, he gently presses his lips to his brothers, sliding his hands slowly from his jaw to his neck, then down to his shoulders which he carefully holds. For several minutes time seems to hold still as they slowly kiss. To an outsider it would seem sexual, when in truth it is not it is nothing more than a shared contact. When the two of them break apart he settles his forehead against his brother’s. He does not ask if he is better, instead his eyes sweep over the older man, noticing the fact his breathing has returned to normal.

Sitting back, he raises a questioning eyebrow before nodding once.

“Shall we see if John needs something?” he queries, glancing about and certain that the blonde is going to ask them to clean, uggg.

Slowly his brother nods once, “We should.” Then softer, almost inaudible once more, “Thank you.”

He nods, hopping to his feet and offering his brother a hand up. Once the both of them are standing, they make their way to the kitchen where he is mildly surprised to see exactly how much scrubbing the blonde has already accomplished. Most of the walls, floor, and counters are done. He is currently working on the stove and oven.

“We’ve come to see if you desire help,” his brother remarks after a few minutes of just watching the smaller man work.

It is actually rather attractive to see how his jeans pull across his ass and his tee-shirt tightens over his flexing muscles but there is no time for side tracking, it's nearing five pm and dinner is at seven. Two hours to get whatever it is their doctor wants done.

Straightening up, the blonde turns to face them with a smile. “If you could dust the front room and clean off either the desk or the coffee table to be used as a buffet,” he replies as he studies the two of them with his far too understanding eyes.

John might not use deduction the way that they do, but he has his own talents at reading people for emotional stability and truthfulness. That allows him to understand their needs before they do sometimes, comprehending how to deal with them and respond. There are actually times he is jealous of that ability with people, then he remembers that the blonde loves the fact that they are themselves.

“If you insist,” he grumbles with a small smile.

“I will keep him on point,” his brother remarks.

Quietly the two of them head into the living room, he glances around trying to determine where to start. Maybe he can get out of dusting by cleaning the tables. So that’s what he does, sets to work organizing the papers and other things he has laying around, deciding to empty the computer desk off to be used.

“Don’t forget to wipe it off when you are done cleaning it up so that is safe to put food on,” his brother tells him as the taller man uses a fluffy duster from somewhere to start cleaning shelves.

Snorting, he nods, knowing his brother is not going to let up on him unless he does so.

For a while the two brothers work in companionable silence, working quickly and effectively to get it complete. Just shy of six pm they finish up and return to the kitchen to see if there is anything else they can help with. Upon entering the kitchen they stop and watch the doctor as he works on kneading the bread he is currently making, a expression of concentration on his face. They share a very speaking look before smirking at the smaller man.

“Living room has been cleaned up,” he states, “Mr. OCD here even made sure I scrubbed what I was cleaning.”

His brother shrugs indifferently, not denying the fact he has OCD. There have been several times his brother has considered hiring a cleaning staff to come through only some of the things he leaves out prevents him from doing so.

“If you still wish to help, those fruits and vegetables need sliced, diced, and cut according to their recipes which as sitting on the table,” the blonde tells them without stopping what he is doing.

Both of them nod, and he states, “I will take the vegetables,” before grabbing the list to check and see what all is needed and groaning when he realizes he has selected the longer list. Still, John wants this done and he wants to help.

Rolling his eyes, his brother takes the fruit, studying the list when he is done before collecting his supplies.

All three of them work in relative silence, occasionally he or his brother will ask about what John needs each item they are processing for. With a merry tone the smaller man answers as he puts the dishes together, blunt fingers working to mix and cook while they do the prep work. He is surprised at how quickly dinner is cooked once all the prep work is done.

“Put these heating plates down and then place the food on them, leave them in the containers, the plates will heat it through the container.” The doctor orders as the first parts are getting done.

He nods, curious as to where he got the heating plates but that is answered by the small smile playing at the edges of his brother’s lips.

“Please take plates, bowels, silverware, and drinking glasses out there as well.” the blonde directs his brother, who nods before going to work on it.

He is considering seeing if anything else is needed when he hears a knock on the downstairs door before the heavy steps of the detective inspector echo through the flat. Glancing at the clock he sees it is ten minutes to seven, so Molly should be here soon too.

*o-O-o*

_Greg’s POV_

He had thought long and hard on the subject every single free minute he had today. Despite that, he felt no closer to an answer than he had when discussing the matter with Sally. Maybe he should try talking to John before the actual conversation tonight. Hopefully the doctor will have an idea of what’s really going on because he gets the feeling that there are things he is missing.

At half six he groans, putting away his paperwork and getting it ready for tomorrow to do. Tonight he needs to get going fairly early for him so that he can make it on time. He will use the showers in the locker room to make sure that he does not stink before heading over there. After grabbing his spare outfit out of his small office closet he heads to the locker room, along the way he is stopped by the Chief Inspector.

“Lestrade, do you have a moment?” the older man inquires with a sweeping look.

He nods once, “Sir,” before waiting for him to step back within the office.

“I understand that your private life is just that, however I am checking with every person to see if they need assistance finding a partner in order to follow the new law, if they have any candidates, or if they have any questions.” The older man states as he shuts the office door.

Sighing softly, he rubs the bridge of his nose with his empty hand, “That is actually where I am heading after I get showered and changed,” he replies after a moment, “There is a partnership I have been invited to join.”

His boss nods, “Good, that is good. If you need any assistance, you know where to find me, good day Lestrade.”

“Sir,” he replies before turning and leaving, finishing his trip to the locker rooms.

It only takes a few minutes for him to strip down, shower, dry, and redress. Thankfully he keeps a small thing of personal products in the small locker by the door for himself. When he is done, he heads to his car, bidding farewell to his staff and coworkers as he goes. At his car he shoves his clothes in the back before getting in and driving over to Baker Street, parking in the assigned parking zone for the flat before walking to it.

He will talk with John before dinner, maybe then he can get a feel for what the other man thinks of the situation and knows. Heading into the flat, he glances around the surprisingly clean living room with a nod to the two brothers before heading into the kitchen where he can see the doctor bouncing around.

“Hello John,” he greets the smaller man, mildly surprised by the amount of food that seems to be around.

“Greg, hi,” the smaller man replies as he continues what he is doing. A moment later the elder brother slips in the room, coming to stand near the doctor with a single arched eyebrow in question. “Here, please put this out there,” the doctor comments to him, carefully handing a baking pan with alfredo sauce, chicken, vegetables, and noodles to the taller man. “Please and thank you,” he murmurs, hand gently touching his back for a moment.

He watches in fascination as the taller man pushes slightly into that hand before turning with the dish and heading into the living room.

“Can I ask you something?” He inquires of the doctor who is still working at the stove.

“Of course,” the sandy-blonde replies with a small smile.

Leaning against the counter he asks, “Why did Sherlock suggest me as the fourth bloke?”

The smile grows as he turns towards him slightly so he can look at him between stirs of the gravy he is working on. “Because Myt wants you, you are a friend to three of us four, and he can tolerate you.”

Staring at the blonde, it takes him several minutes to process what he had said. Myt? Does he mean Mycroft? “Mycroft?” he questions as he keeps trying to process. Why would he want him?

“Yes Mycroft. Here at home I tend to call him Myt. I would not suggest you trying it anytime soon, he gets touchy when most people shorten his name” his friend answers as he pours the gravy into a gravy dish.

“I don’t understand,” he mutters shaking his head, still trying to process.

“It’s relatively simple. A few years ago, the day I met Andy actually, I pinned Mycroft to the wall over there,” the shorter man waves towards the wall by the door. “That was the beginning of our relationship, then Sherlock got home, and our dynamic changed, somewhere along the way Sherlock noted that he tended to watch you on the rare occasions where he came to crime scenes or the Yard.” He shrugs, still smiling as he shoves a loaf of bread into the oven, “Sherlock asked him about it, but both brothers noted that you prefer monogamous relationships, not poly, and he did not want to upset this relationship.” The doctor falls silent again as he pulls a dish out of the oven, “Sherlock love, come get this,” the shorter man calls out.

He is shocked when the dark-haired genius does as bid without saying anything.

“So both brothers had also noticed that you appreciated exactly how good Myt looks in his suits.” He flushes at this statement, not wanting to admit that he is bi, he had spent years living as a heterosexual male. John continues speaking, “So with this law, Sherlock decided that he would get you for his brother, and it allows us to follow the law.”

Again he has a hard time processing. Apparently both brothers knew of his refused to be acknowledged attraction to the elder brother. Yet they had never said or acted on it. It slightly confuses him why they would want to be in a poly relationship. Wouldn’t that be harder than a regular relationship? How do they make it work, the three of them? How would it affect the dynamics between them as a group of five?

“You do not need to worry about any of us hitting on you. I’m not attracted to you. Sherlock is neutral, neither attracted nor repulsed. Myt is too shy to try anything.” The doctor remarks before glancing at a clock, “Molly should be here shortly, if you want tomorrow or the night after we can go for drinks.”

He nods once, not having a chance to say anything before he hears a cheerful voice call out a greeting.

“Hi Sherlock, Mycroft, John, Greg,” she greets with too much energy, an edge of nervousness in her tone. Years of being a copper tells him she is faking being so secure.

“I’m going to go sit in the living room,” he states with a nod towards the girl hovering in the door, “Hello Molly.”

*o-O-o*

_Molly’s POV_  
After greeting everyone, she takes everything in, noticing the flat is cleaner than normal, that there seems to be a small buffet of delicious smelling food set up on the desk, and the other doctor is still in the kitchen. Drifting that way, she hovers just between the kitchen and the living room.

“Myt love, come get the tea please,” the blonde requests in a steady voice. When the politician does so, she watches as the taller man does so without question, eyes widening slightly, “you know our three cups, the one with the black handle is for Greg, the other for Molly.”

“Alright, are you planning on using the teapot?” the politician inquires as he glances about, eyes not settling on any one item.

“No, I will make the teas individually as I normally do,” the smaller man replies with a small smile. “Go relax Myt,” there is a soft tone of command in his voice as if he is used to being obeyed.

She is completely surprised as the taller man nods and does as directed, handing out the teas before settling on the end of the sofa with his, his body seeming to melt into the seat. A moment later she watches as the dark-haired brother joins him, the two sitting nearly pressed together with their teas on the table before them.

Blankly she turns to the doctor, stepping the rest of the way in the kitchen as she inquires in a single breath, “Do you always call him Myt? Even in bed? I cannot recall ever hearing him called anything but Mycroft before,” almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth she realizes what she has asked and slaps a hand across her mouth as she stares at him with wide eyes. She can feel her skin heating up as she blushes hotly.

Chuckling softly, the blonde nods once, “When we are home I do, when we are not I do not. I would not suggest that you shorten his name. He tends not to take it well.”  


“Oh,” she breathlessly mutters as she continues to stare, “John, why me?”

“You are friends with three of us, Sherlock likes you, you are able to deal with Sherlock’s behavior, and you are subject to this law.” He answers with a small shrug as he pulls the bread out and sets it onto the stove while placing two pies in the oven. She cannot tell what types though one is graham cracker crust and the other a regular crust.

“Oh,” she repeats herself, giving a small shake of her head she asks, “Do you think it will work?”

“Of course. We are five of the most stubborn people I can think of,” he replies lifting the breads off of the baking pan and placing it on a plate, “Please grab that butter,” he nods towards a small container sitting on the counter.

She nods, doing so and following him out to the living room.

As soon as he sets the bread down he announces, “Dinner time, please enjoy, the boys and myself have worked together to make it. Eat what you like. Do not worry about leftovers,”

For a minute she nervously hovers by the table without actually doing anything, do they eat like this often? What happens to the extras? Hopefully they are not wasted. Would it be wrong to ask? Where is she supposed to sit since both brothers are on the sofa? Does it matter what she eats? Because some of it looks really good and other items not so much, not that they look bad, it’s just not things she normally eats. Biting her lip, she sets to making herself a plate, determining that she will try some of the stuff she does not eat often.

Glancing around once she has a plate she realizes her only two seating options is Sherlock and John’s chairs. She bites her lip for a moment before the blonde motions to Sherlock’s chair with a smile. Settling into it, she nibbles at the food, noting which one she likes, dislikes, and is ambivalent to. The plan was to have a discussion over and after dinner making her curious, worried, and fretful of how that is going to go.

*o-O-o*

_John’s POV_  
Once everyone has a plate, he gets one of his own before settling on the sofa between the brothers. He can feel the tension pouring off of the elder brother, though it is probably not noticeable to the other two in the room since they do not know him well enough. The younger brother is full of energy to, but of a different variety.

Laying a hand gently against the back of the elder brother, he murmurs in his soothing captain voice as Sherlock calls it, “Relax Myt.”

The taller man nods once, barely a motion of his head which he would have missed if he had not been looking for it. Slowly he feels the tension flow out of him. The tall man’s body straightening and becoming more properly postured without actually projecting the formality he normally does. Carefully he sets to eating with the same proper manners as when he is doing one of his political dinners.

He keeps his hand on the taller man’s back as he eats, his dinner balanced on his legs, as he eats with his other hand. For the first part of dinner he remains like that until he is sure that the older man is not going to have one of his episodes. While they do not bother him, he knows it would bother the politician vastly, particularly since he is attracted to Greg and does not wish to show weakness in front of him. When he is done with his first plate he debates about getting up to get a second plate when suddenly the dark-haired genius on the other side of him scoops up his plate as he stands. He smiles at the taller man who fetches him another plate of food before settling back down beside him.

Once he hears the alarm go off to pull the pies out, he carefully gets up, taking his plate and that of his boys with him to the kitchen to place in the sink. After placing the pies on a cooling rack he returns to the living room, his eyes carefully noting each person’s current emotional state before he settles on the arm of the sofa behind Mycroft since Sherlock has scooted over into his spot. His left hand rests on the taller man's shoulder.

“Now that dinner is mostly done, let’s have our talk. First off, Molly, have you considered Sherlock’s proposal?” he inquires, carefully taking the reactions of each person in the room.

Her eyes widen slightly as she works on answering, “I, yes, I have,” her tone has a bit of a stammer.

Gently he queries, “And your decision?”

Blushing slightly, she stammers out, “I would rather not be in poly relationship however this law takes that choice away from me,” she pauses, glancing at the floor for a minute before she continues, “Is it going to be an equal relationship?”

He glances at each of his boys before looking over to Greg to see his reaction. Both brothers glance at each other before flicking a glance to him. He recognizes that as their way of telling him to guide in this subject. The detective inspector is considering the subject carefully.

“It will be as equal as it may be considering the situation,” he replies to her, “At least of us three.”

“I’d rather a partner than a subordinate,” the oldest in the room replies.

She blinks at him owlishly, “I… what?”

He smiles at her, “This is a relationship born out of necessity, not desire, so it is best to understand it will not always be smooth, but we will try to keep things as smooth as possible. I do believe that we should have a discussion about expectations and goals for the relationship. “

She nods once slowly, “Then I am willing to try.”

He nods once, “Well, that is four of five, Greg, you’re the last one to decide.”

The oldest man in the room blinks at him for a minute, rubbing one tanned hand through his silvery-dark brown hair before sighing, “I guess, I mean I doubt there is going to be a better match than this it just seems a bit,” he pauses for a minute, “business like.”

The dark-haired genius opens his mouth to say something but he states, “Don’t,” softly before he can. Snapping his mouth shut the youngest male in their group shoots him a quick look but nods once.

“It is a business like, that is to be expected by the fact this is being done out of requirement instead of desire, however I believe in time we can come to a mutual set of arrangements.” He shrugs, stroking a hand down his auburn-haired lovers back when he feels him tensing again, “I do believe with time everything will work out between the five of us, or I would not go with Sherlock’s plan.” Leaning forward a bit he kisses the top of the politician’s head before murmuring in his ear, “Everything will work out fine.”

The politician barely nods, but he still feels a bit tense beneath his hand.

“That’s all five of us agreeing, I would say next is discussing expectations.” He remarks gently, keeping his tone even, “It is my belief that it is best to state expectations right off, and to make sure they are clear. Many problems in relationships could be avoided by having realistic expectations. Should I start or would one of you prefer to start?”

The detective inspector is staring at him with a shocked expression on his face like he had not gotten that far. While the only female in the room smiles at him, she is also shocked according to her facial expression but happy that this is not a lark. Neither of his boys react since they were already aware of this, both having been aware from day one of their individual romantic relationship with him.

“It might be best if you begin,” the politician states after several minutes of silence.

He nods, “I have close to the same expectations for us five as a unit as I do for us three. First off, I understand how busy life can be, particularly with jobs where we are each on call, however in order for this to work, at least one night a month needs to be the five of us spending time together, even if it is only listening to music or watching a movie. Legally each of us blokes are required to have sex with Molly once a month. As such I suggest at least one day a month that we spend one-on-one between Molly and each of us. I also desire to keep my one day a month with both Mycroft and Sherlock, luckily due to the fact there is five of us, it means that the scheduling can be overlaid at times. The rest of the time shall be played by ear. Is the first expectation acceptable?”

Sighing, his dark-haired genius nods once as he answers, “Yes John.”

The auburn-haired genius is softer spoken but does so as well, “That is acceptable.”

“I think that works,” the pathologist comments nodding.

The only one not to speak aloud is the detective inspector, he merely nods once with a serious expression.

“You have to answer aloud, that’s the rule,” the dark-haired genius grumbles, “If I have to answer aloud so do you.”

“Quiet Sherlock,” he directs before turning his attention to his friend, “He is correct, though, only answers spoken aloud are accepted. That way there can be little room for misunderstanding.”

“Oh,” shrugging the oldest answers, “It makes sense.” Scratching the back of his head he inquires, “Will there be a schedule or some such thing?”

He smiles, “We tend to select one night and then put it on our calendars, generally at the beginning of the month. “

“My schedule is probably the least changing of the five of us,” the pathologist remarks with a small smile.

Grinning at her, he nods, “Probably is since this one deals with too many can’t think politicians and us three work various crime scenes either together or as two separate entities.”

“The second expectation is honesty. There are things that cannot be said because of work,” he glances between Greg and Mycroft, “however in our personal life I expect honesty.”

“Yes John,” the brother’s chorus with a shared look.

“That’s good. I understand that there are some things work related that cannot be spoken of,” she states clearly, her stuttering slowly going away as she relaxes.

“Agreed, lack of honesty was a big part of why things ended between me and my ex,” the detective inspector mutters.

He can see that his dark-haired boffin is getting ready to say something and he shoots him a look with a small shake of his head. Instead the taller man snorts and leans a bit closer to his brother.

“The last is not an expectation but a statement. I do not sleep with anyone outside our relationship. That’s it for my expectations. Molly, do you have any you would like?” he prompts the shy woman.

For several minutes she is silent. 

Smiling at her gently he comments, “How about I serve the pies, it should be properly cooled so it’s still warm without being steaming hot?”

She nods with a grateful smile on her face before blinking and stating, “Yes, I ummm, please.”

He smiles at her, “Alright, who wants cherry pie, who wants blackberry pie?” He queries, “Or who wants both? Also vanilla ice cream or no?”

“Just ice cream please,” the politician murmurs politely.

“Whichever one is the gram cracker crust with the ice cream,” the boffin replies.

Blushing, the detective inspector comments, “One of each please with a little ice cream on the side.”

“Cherry please, with just a little ice cream,” she requests a slight blush.

Nodding, he collects up the remaining plates before heading into the kitchen. He keeps his ears perked for any conversation the four of them might have but everything is surprisingly silent out of them. Shaking his head, he grabs his tray, placing each piece of pie and the ice cream on it before heading back into the living room where he passes them out to their respective people. Like Mycroft he had only gotten ice cream but that was more because of the fact he was balancing on the edge of the sofa arm than anything else.

While everyone is eating their desserts, she finally states hesitantly, “I realize that sex is required, but I would rather have my own sleeping room,” there is a bright blush covering her skin as she pauses to speak.

He nods once as he states, “Very understandable.”

“Agreed Molly,” the dark-haired genius responds.

“Very understandable and already planned for,” the auburn-haired genius comments lightly.

“Makes sense, considering,” the detective inspector remarks before questioning, “Do we have housing plans already or is it something that we will need to discuss?”

He smiles at the question, “Myt?”

“They are already planned out, I will have copies made available for any considerations that may be needed,” the politician responds seriously.

“We can have a further discussion on that once the plans are here, perhaps next week or the week after,” he suggests.

“Yes John,” all four choruses before Greg and Sherlock smirk, Molly smiles, and Mycroft twitches his lips a bit.

“Any other expectations Molly?” he questions gently, watching for her reaction.

She shakes her head slowly, “No but….”

“What is it?” he inquires softly, trying for encouraging.

Biting her lip, the youngest person in the room eventually asks, “Do I have to get rid of my pets?”

“We have no issues with you retaining your pets, what about you Greg?” he replies as he looks over at his friend.

The oldest in the room shrugs, “As long as I am not expected to take care of them before there are children in the house I don’t care one way or another.”

“I like pets, I just have a difficult time recalling to take care of them,” the youngest bloke in the room mutters with a blush.

“Does that answer your question adequately?” he queries after a moment.

She nods, “It does. At this point there is nothing else.”

Turning his attention to the detective inspector he is about to ask him if he has any expectations when the older man starts talking, “Expectations? Well pretty much everything has been covered that I would like from a relationship. I will say that I will not be looking outside of our unit for romance or such, so there is not going to be any faithful issues from me. However I do have a few questions.”

“Let me make some more tea and then we can go over them,” he offers with a smile, happy that the oldest in their number is actually thinking things through.

“That’d be great,” the detective inspector responds.

Standing, he collects up the dishes on his tray, waving Molly back to her seat when she gets up to help. After years of navigating the care of his boys he actually does better when allowed to just work then he does when he has help for things like this. Just as he gets done with the tea, she slips through the kitchen and into the bathroom. Bathrooms, he will have to make sure that they have a few of those available since there will be five of them plus however many children they end up having. As soon as she has returned to her seat to sip at her tea, the detective inspector leans forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees before he begins to speak.

“Recapping: Molly is the female of our family unit, the four of us are the males. You three are already in a committed relationship. Sherlock and Mycroft have no actual interest in Molly. Sherlock and John have no interest in me. John and myself have interest in Molly. Housing plans have already been made, waiting on a copy of them to fully discuss them. Each of us will have our own room. Molly keeps her pets. The four of us are not expected to take care of them before there are children. Honesty is expected on personal matters. We all understand the fact work can be a pain in the ass.” He lists off before asking, “Did I miss anything from the established information?”

Grinning he replies, “Don’t think so.”

At the same time as Mycroft states, “Not that I am aware of,” a blush lighting his.

“Boring,” Sherlock mutters, “that’s all covered already, why are we recovering it?”

“Be polite Sherlock,” he chides the younger man quietly.

The boffin nods, his face flushing slightly for a moment.

“Sounds right,” Molly remarks after considering it for a minute.

“Now then, on to the questions: can we keep personal matters at home only? Where will the housing plans be for? How are we going to go about adjusting to this situation? Do we wish to have traditional weddings or some other manner of formalizing this? How are we handling the last name situation? How are we going to go about scheduling our time together? When there are children are we going to discover which is of is the father or treat the situation as if we are all are father? How will we name them? How will the fact the three of you are together affect the overall situation? How are we going to balance this with work?” he stops for a breath, eyes narrowing for a minute while he considers something according to his, “Yeah, that’s it for the moment.”

Beneath his hand that has returned to stroking his politician’s back he can feel the older man tensing up, the stress that is nearly pouring off of him and has been gradually getting worse for the last few minutes. Leaning forward slightly on the arm of the chair, he wraps his arms loosely around the taller man’s shoulders. He is merely offering support without saying a word since he knows speaking will not help. Eventually the politician loosens back up, squaring his shoulders a bit and eyes narrowing as continues to listen. When the detective inspector is done speaking, he flickers a glance over his shoulder, almost questioning.

Letting go and straightening up he chuckles softly, “Lots of questions, weren’t quite to that part of the conversation, but as long as the boys do not mind, let’s attempt to answer them.”

“I had no further expectations to add,” the politician states stiffly.

“John covered what was important. All I want to make sure of is I still have somewhere to work on my experiments too.” The boffin responds with a lazy shrug.

“Notebook and pen, Sherlock,” he states calmly, not moving from his spot.

Grumbling, the taller man hops up and fetches one from the computer desk drawer, it is the same one that has been used for other notes for this situation.

Accepting the notebook, he quickly opens it up and puts pen to paper. “Question one: I do believe that we should be able to continue on as normal. Between the three of us, our relationship has not affected our prospective work even on occasions there has been overlay.”

He waits for the others to nod before he, “Question two: housing plans, boys you’re the ones who made those, so one of you explain it.”  


Swallowing hard, it is the politician who speaks up, “We have decided to purchase the buildings on either side of this one, along with this one, then have remodeling done as needed. During the time while the flat is being remodeled we will be staying at my official flat.”

“Is there going to be enough room?” the detective inspector queries.

“Knowing these two there will be, however we can discuss that further once the architects are done with the plans.” He suggests in a firm tone, curious to see if it will work on Greg the way it works on his boys.

The older man nods once, a curious, thoughtful expression on his face.

“Question three: my suggestion would be several dinners. We have six months so we might as well do it right. I would also suggest that each of us attempt to have individual dinners or dates in order to get to know each on a more personal level.” He suggests with a glance between each of them.

“That is acceptable,” the politician agrees tightly, still close to the edge with his nerves.

"That might work, at least make things a bit easier for us," she stammers out with a blush.

“If you insist,” the dark-haired genius mutters.

Nodding slowly, the eldest remarks, “Alright, how will we decide the order to do so?”

Shrugging, he replies, “Check schedules and see when it will work, since Molly has the most stable schedule we can use hers as a base.”

“Sounds good to me,” the detective inspector remarks with a small smile, he is still leaning forward seriously.

“Question four: I believe we should discuss that at a later date after we have had more time to get to know each other on a personal level. The same for question five.” He pauses for a moment smiling, “Already answered question six.” Tilting his head, “question seven and eight should be considered at the same time as questions four and five.”

Glancing between his boys he remarks, “Question eight is yet to be seen, our personal dynamics may or may not affect the outcome of this relationship but it will take time to determine that. We will also have to see how each of our own dynamics form as well.” Again he pauses, tilting his head to the side, “Question nine: communicate, compare schedules, and not get pissed when work interferes with plans. We are all adults with crazy, and often random, schedules I should hope that we can handle it in a mature fashion. Any disagreement with those points?”

“No John,” the boffin grumbles with a small frown into his empty tea cup.

The politician gives a small shake of his head before replying, “Not at this time.”

“I, yes, that makes sense, though I might write down random information and ideas to talk about later,” pathologist comments glancing around the room.

Seriously the detective inspector remarks, “Alright, we can discuss it once there is more information.”

“If you do not mind, I am withdrawing to my office,” his politician states in a strained tone.

He moves his hand away from the older man’s back, watching as the politician rises gracefully and leaves the room silently. He is concerned for him but is not going to follow because he knows he needs to withdraw from the sensory overload of too many people. If he is not down after the other two leave, he will go upstairs to check on him.

“Is he alright?” the pathologist inquires as she glances at him worriedly.

Smiling lightly, he answers, “He is an introvert. Sometimes he just needs his own space and quiet.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, “I can understand that. It’s part of why I love my job, not a lot of people.”

A thoughtful look crosses the detective inspector’s face, one full of speculation as he glances towards the stairs and the room upstairs. “If that’s an office upstairs, where do you sleep?”

Smirking he replies, “On the outer most edge of the bed most days, with them switching for the middle spot.”

A blush colors the only female’s skin as her gazes flickers closely around the room.

Glancing at the clock he sees that it is close to midnight, between dinner and their discussion it has been five hours already, “Do the two of you work in the morning?”

The detective inspector glances at the clock, eyes widening slightly, “Hadn’t realized it was nearly midnight.”

“Oh! Its rather late, I should be going too,” Molly states as she stands and stretches.

“Wednesday’s are normally least busy, so how about group dinner next Wednesday to do some scheduling and getting to know each other?” he suggests as he stands as well.

Only Sherlock stays seated, stretching out on the sofa and folding his hands beneath his chin.

“Sounds good, seven again?” she inquires with a smile.

“Seven works for us unless something major comes up,” he answers.

“I’ll be here,” the detective inspector remarks, “Friday at the pub after work?”

“Sure, text me and I’ll meet you there,” he replies as he walks them to the door.

After they leave, he heads upstairs to check on Mycroft, finding him curled on their old bed, arms wrapped around the pillow. Knocking twice he questions softly, “Can I come in?”

The politician doesn’t answer. Actually he looks like he does not even hear the question. Quietly padding over, he settles on the edge of the bed, running a hand slowly down his tall politician’s side in soothing motions. He does not know how long he strokes the taller man’s side until he finally starts to uncurl.

“Thank you,” the older man mutters as he scoots closer.

“Would you like to sleep up here tonight? Just us?” he gently inquires, hand still running soothing strokes.

Closing his eyes the politician shakes his head lightly, “No, let’s go to bed?”

Smiling, he stands and offers the taller man a hand and it is accepted. Standing, the two of them head down stairs.

“Bed Sherlock?” he asks the younger man as they pause in the kitchen.

“No, go on without me, is the extra food for the homeless?” the dark-haired man queries, tilting his head backwards to look at him.

“Yes, it is,” he replies.

“Then I will make sure they have the food before morning,” the dark-haired genius remarks.

Nodding, he puts his hand on the small of the older brothers back and guides him to the bedroom. Slowly he strips him down to his pants before gently pushing him on the bed. After he strips, he joins the taller man on the bed, pulling him close and holding him.


	5. Reassuring Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!

_John’s POV  
_ His ears pick up the sounds of his dark-haired lover moving around a few hours later, bringing him out of his partial sleep as the younger man collects up the food on the throw away dishes and sends a text message. Eyes flickering open, he carefully studies his auburn-haired lover, noting that he seems to have finally relaxed some. His long body is not as tense, though it is curled around him, legs intertwined with his, long arms wrapped around his torso, head had been pressed against his shoulder before he moved. Snuggling closer, he kisses his auburn-haired lovers forehead before drifting back to sleep.

The next time he awakes is to the taller man nuzzling his shoulder, lips gently fluttering against his skin. Slowly those lips move along the length of his shoulder blade scattering little barely there kisses as he goes.

“Morning Myt,” he murmurs softly.

The older man freezes in place and he can feel his blush in the warmth of his skin.

“Please continue,” he continues just as softly, lifting a hand to stroke down his lovers back once.

When he feels the politician tense up he drops his hand, tucking it behind his head as he watches him with hooded eyes. He understands this is one of the rare times where Mycroft wanted to be in charge without any guidance or direction. Smiling warmly, he stays still, allowing the auburn-haired genius free reign to do what he wants. According to his ears, the other genius is not in the flat right now. For several long minutes time seems to hold still as the two of them lay there. Slowly, with a hesitation that only comes to the genius in matters of the relationship, the older man pushes him on his back. He rolls willingly enough, smiling encouragingly at the taller man, trying to relay his willingness for whatever it is the genius needs.

Long fingers wrap carefully around his wrist, the one still at his side and push down for a moment. Biting his lip in a rather endearing way, he watches as the politician’s eyes flicker at his other arm, the one he has tucked under his head. Slowly he pulls it out and settles it beside him like the other. Once his hands are situated, the taller man nods once to himself before stretching out beside him. Even though nothing has been said, he understands that the taller man hopes he will hold still.

“Would you like to bind my hands?” he offers quietly, trying not to break whatever is going on right now.

Apparently it fails because the genius head jerks up as he stares at him, eyes full of worry and doubt, skin flushed.

“Shhhhhh, calm Myt, you have free reign, I’ll keep my hands where they are.” His voice is low, pitched to relax the auburn-haired genius.

It seems to slowly work, causing the taller man to take a few deep breaths, before he shakes his head and lays it against the side of his chest. They stay like that for a long while before the taller man finally sits up, brilliant eyes sweeping over his body, long fingers hesitantly tracing patterns on his collarbone. He drifts, mind mostly quiet as his auburn-haired lover sets to tracing every inch of him in a manner very like when they first got together. The only difference is now the politician knows what the different types of touch are. The auburn-haired man’s current form of touching is non-sexual, designed to reassure himself, to connect.

Eventually he feels the change in the older man’s touch as he goes from reassuring himself through contact to wanting more. A slightly tremble entering his touch, his breath changing from normal to shallow. Still he holds still, letting Mycroft lead, understanding that his normally passive love was needing to be in control.

“Make me stop thinking, please,” the older man whispers against his stomach after a nuzzling, kissing, licking, and nibbling all across his body, leaving light red marks from the whiskers on his face.

He nods, finally lifting a hand to stroke through his auburn hair before he slides out of his position, hands catching the older man’s hips as he does so. Firmly but carefully holding the older man, he situates him on the bed, his long limbs splayed wide and just left to relax as he reaches in the small drawer on the bottom of the night table, grabbing the bottle of body oil he keeps there for when his boys need a firm rub down or massage. It gives him an easy way to break apart their reserve in the form of contact. Starting at the taller man’s feet he proceeds to massaging every inch of his body, making sure to get every knot and tighten muscle.

The little noises that escape his lover are arousing but he ignores them in favor of continuing to work his way up his legs. At his groin he makes it a teasing point to touch everywhere, all of his touches designed to sooth rather than arouse at the moment though it is still having an arousing effect, probably because he is using the lightly warming oil rather than the other, plain oil. He smiles at the needy expression on the taller man’s face as he rubs the oil into his stomach and chest.

“Relax love,” he murmurs, “simply enjoy.”

“Why do you call me love?” the older man blurts out, eyes wide as he stares at him. Then as if realizing what he had asked, the taller man rolls and buries himself in the pillows, body trembling more than just nerves. He can just barely make out the words “I’m sorry.”

Setting the oil aside, he scoots up to the top of the bed, before pulling the tall genius up into his arms and simply holding him while the emotion overwhelms him.

When the genius’ breathing finally evens out he cups his jaw, forcing the taller man to look at him even though the politician does not want to. “Don’t you know?” he asks him softly, a little smile playing across his lips.

Shaking his head slightly, the taller man tries to withdraw but he keeps his grip firm on his chin.

“Because I love you, Mycroft Holmes, and have for a long time.” He informs the taller man before letting go of his face and wrapping his arms firmly around him.

Eyes widen in shock, disbelief and hope flickering through them before the genius buries his head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. “It is hard…” the auburn-haired man murmurs.

“I know love, I do, if something is wrong, tell me so we can work through it, no reason to put yourself through hell.” He tells him, glancing at the clock he sees that there is forty-five minutes before the taller man has to dress for work.

Reaching over to the table, he grabs his phone and his speed-dial two, a minute later the dark-haired beauty who is his lover’s assistant answers the phone. “Good morning John,” she greets tone distracted.

“Is there anything important on his schedule between now and noon?” he queries as he keeps an eye on the taller man.

“No, first meeting is at one,” she replies after a minute.

“Then send the car at half twelve,” he orders her.

He can just about hear the smile, “Doctors orders,” before she hangs up.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” the politician grumbles against his shoulder.

Chuckling he replies, “Yes I am, let’s deal with this now so we do not have to deal with it being worse later. Because then I will interfere and damn the consequences.” Setting the phone aside he sets to stroking his hand down the older man’s back. “So tell me what is bothering you, Myt, all of it, not just part.”

“She’s female,” the older man mutters, “You like females better, and now you have a free pass with one.”

Sighing softly, he understands exactly what the genius is not saying with that statement, “Has having Sherlock join our relationship changed it for the worse?”

For a long minute the tall man thinks about it before shaking his head against his neck.

“Words Mycroft,” he gently chides him.

“No, it has remained mostly the same,” he mumbles in response.

“Then why would adding Molly change it?” he gently asks.

“You like women better and she is smarter than most, that’s the two things your most attracted to,” he rapidly answers voice nearly breaking.

“Oh you stupid genius,” he mutters kissing the top of his lover’s auburn head, “Nothing is changing Myt. She’ll have her room and I will still be here with you and your crazy brother, not trading that in. I understand why you worry, but have I actually looked at any females with desire since we started this?”

There is a really long time while before the genius replies, “No…” shock evident in his tone, ”Why?”

Smiling, he kisses the top of his head again, “Because I have you, and I have your brother, I do not need anyone else. Even if I do end up caring for her in the long run, which is always possible considering that we’re going to end up having children together, it’s no going to change how I feel for you.”

“Oh,” the auburn-haired man mutters, lifting his head and gently pressing their lips together.

When they break apart he queries, “Would you like the rest of that massage?”

Nodding, the older man unfolds himself stretching out beside him, “John?”

“Yes love?” he replies, intentionally using love instead of his name.

“Thank you for having patience with me,” the older man tells him seriously.

Grinning, he leans down to kiss him, “Always Myt.” With that he returns to rubbing the oil into his skin, this time his touch is designed to enflame and arouse. A smirk curves his lips as his desired affect happens and the taller man’s body comes alive beneath his finger tips, that edge of sadness and worry that had filled him earlier gone, replaced by a strong need according to his reactions.

When he has the taller man begging, he reaches for the lube, preparing the taller man carefully, making sure to hit his prostate on every third pass until he is writhing on the bed, voice breaking as he asks for more.

“Alright Myt, whatever you need,” and he means it, always has and always does.

Kneeling between the taller man’s legs he lifts them so they hook over his shoulders before carefully working himself into the taller man’s ass, holding his hips still so he cannot impale himself before he is ready to be fully seated, “Relax Myt,” he directs in his low voice that never fails to get a response.

He watches as with visible effort the politician holds still, and from there as he sinks into that space where he is allowing his body control rather than his mind. He is still needy and still making all those beautiful sounds.

Slowly he withdraws before thrusting hard, making sure to hit the older man’s prostate. Since they have time, he alternates, working with that old but faithful pattern between heavy and hard thrusts and slow gliding that can make his lover horse with screaming.

“You may make any quiet noise you like, you may not scream or bite your lip until it bleeds.” He orders the taller man as he hears him beginning to strain his voice.

“Yes John,” the tall man whimpers as he tries to arch his hips only to have them held in place.

“Nice try,” he murmurs warmly as he holds himself perfectly still for a moment, making the taller man gasp since he is pressed right against his prostate.

“Please!” Mycroft keens, his entire body flushing in need.

Nodding once, he sets back to that even pace he had previously, one shallow gliding thrust, one heavy thrust to the prostate, two shallow, two heavy, and on up to ten before working his way back down to one before repeating the process again. He could not tell you how long he did so, all he knew was he loved every single expression on the politicians face as he broke down. Several times the older man nearly came, his body ever so close and each time he would reach between them to keep him from ejaculating, allowing him dry orgasms only until he was sure that all the emotional turmoil and stress his body had been under had been worked out.

Smirking, he leans forward gently, pushing the tall man’s legs against his chest as he orders in his ear, “When I say come, you will do so, understood?”

“Yes John,” the older man gasps as he holds his hips still for a minute.

Back to the pattern he had established, then on the tenth heavy thrust he orders, “Come now,” watching as the pleasure rips through the older man as he does so, a few thrusts later he is coming as well, though not nearly as hard.

Carefully working himself out of the taller man’s ass, he gently stretches those long legs back out, rubbing them to make sure there are no knots before fetching a hot flannel and some water. In long standing tradition he takes care of his Myt, cleaning him up and making sure that his body is not going to suffer any sore after affects. He has just finished cleaning the area around his ass when he comes up with an idea. Smiling mischievously he reaches into that drawer again, this time pulling out the middle sized anal plugs, before he grabs the lube as well.

With delicate fingers he makes sure that there are no injuries to the taller man’s hole before he lubes the plug and carefully works it in him. Smiling as he watches his lover’s hole grasp at it.

“John?” the tall man questions sleepily.

“Sleep love, we’ll talk a bit more in an hour,” he brushes one hand down the side of his lovers side gently.

“Alright,” the genius murmurs as he falls asleep.

Getting up, he heads into the shower taking care to completely clean himself up before the tall man is awake again. Then heading into the kitchen after dressing, he sets to making a healthy lunch for his genius since he knows he probably will not eat for several hours once he leaves. While he is cooking, Sherlock gets home, stinking up a storm of sewer and waste.

“Shower if you please, now,” he comments to the slender man as he continues to work, “Clothes into the bag under the sink, they will be cleaned tonight.”

“Yes John,” his sarcastic younger lover responds as he heads to the bathroom.

Frowning he considers the reason he tall boffin to head into the sewers and can only come up with three, the first being an experiment, the second a case, and the third the one he thinks it is, the homeless network. Giving a shake of his head he returns to working on the food, making sure that he has enough prepared for himself and both brothers.

A short while later he is heading into the bedroom in order to wake Mycroft so he can eat, shower, and dress for the day. Settling on the edge of the bed, he gently kisses the politician on his forehead murmuring gently, “Time to wake Myt, you need to eat and prepare for work,” as he cards his fingers through the older man’s auburn hair.

Grumbling the older man’s eyes slowly flicker open, a mildly confused look on his face which turns to a deep blush, “What is in my…” his voice trails off, his blush darkening.

Smiling he replies mildly smugly, “An anal plug.”

Confused, the politician queries, “Why?”

His expression turns mischievous as he leans forward so his lips are beside the older man’s ear, “So that when you get home I can pin you against the door and fuck you senseless, your body will be all ready for me, just needing a bit of lube.”

Blushing, the older man swallows hard.

“Now then, up you get, lunch is waiting for you on the table,” he informs the politician as he stands.

Grumbling in a manner so very similar to his brothers, the taller man slowly sits up, “If you insist.”

Chuckling, he leaves the room, heading back into the kitchen so that he can make sure the plates are made. He then heads into the living room, spotting the dark-haired genius stretched out on the sofa.

“Lunch time Sherlock,” he remarks, waiting to see if he will respond or not. Considering the fact he got the younger man to eat a rather decent dinner the night before he is moderately certain he will not get the boffin to eat any time soon.

Returning to the kitchen at the same time as the politician steps in with only his house robe on, he smiles at the detectable sight of pale limbs peaking out of the robe, freckled chest just barely hidden. He’s rather fond of those freckles spending hours connecting them with his fingertips and tongue, enjoying the loss of control that is caused by it.

Not now, he reminds himself as he hands the tall man his plate.

There is a small smirk playing at the edges of his lover’s lips, as he accepts the plate before settling in the chair, his eyes suddenly widening as he swallows.

Smiling playfully he remarks, “I should probably warn you about the plug, it will rub some interesting places today.”

Mock scowling, the auburn-haired genius nods once as he nibbles at his food.


	6. Thoughts and Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing! Literally! Want me to write more, leaving more reviews never fails.
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!

_Molly’s POV_  
She awoke to Toby gently nibbling at her nose. Chuckling, she pushes the small black and gray tabby cat aside in order to get up. Stretching her mind wanders over the previous night and everything that had happened.

The thing she was most shocked over was John. Quiet, unassuming, non-aggressive John, who lead the entire conversation, who kept the Holmes brothers close by, the younger under control, the older in the conversation. Who took notes on the entire thing and set out a baseline of rules. John who had kissed her with a fire that was unexpected. Who Greg said was attracted to her. It was amazing and shocking and terrifying. What if she fell in love with him? He was so clearly in love with the brothers, would he even have space to love her? Would he be willing to or even want to?

Giving a shake of her head, she turns her thoughts towards Greg next as she heads to the shower. He is probably the one she will have the closest relationship with. How will that work? They had been sort of colleague-friends since the introduction of Sherlock into their lives but prior to Sherlock’s suggestion she never would have considered him as a potential partner. There is nothing wrong with him, actually he is a really nice bloke, he just wasn’t on her thoughts like that. Now that he was however, she was curious what type of relationship he favored. Did he like close and affectionate or more of a loose and easy going relationship? If she randomly showed up with lunch would he be happy or annoyed? Would he be able to understand that she sometimes needed space and a place to hide? She had noticed the night before that he was the one with the most questions, was that a side effect of his job or a natural trait?

Sighing, she washes her hair and sets to thinking about the other two. Mycroft is an introvert like herself so he will understand her need for quiet and peace. However she also wonders how they are ever going to fulfill the required once a month sex if he cannot bring himself to relax around her. Perhaps they will use a prescription drug? The same with Sherlock, how is she supposed to have sex with him if he is uninterested? Past that, she thinks of Sherlock as a friend, never really considered him as anything more despite the crush she had on him for years. She had been well aware that nothing would ever come of it, so she felt safe flirting with him and in admiring him physically.

Once more she sighs as she finishes her hair and climbs out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself before heading into the kitchen area to feed Toby before returning to her living room to feed Cleo, then heading to the far wall across from the window to feed Lu and La.

Looking at the fish tank she was concerned about how was she going to move it. How was she going to move any of her things? What was she going to do with the extra furniture? If she was moving into Baker Street could she keep her own bed? Was she really going to have her own space? For the last few years she had lived alone with neighbors yes, but still able to shut the door and ignore them. How would she do that if she was living so close? What about cooking? Would John always do it or would the rest of them be required to occasionally cook too? There is way too much to think about right now and she needs to get ready for work.

Once all her pets have been cared for she puts a pot of coffee on, deciding today she would treat herself to something other than tea and needing the extra burst of caffeine. She had a really big suspicion today was not going to be easy. While the coffee is brewing she returns to her room to dress, picking something cheerful to wear. 

Why did she not ask any of those questions last night? Mostly because she had not yet thought of them, she thinks to herself as she makes her coffee. Checking the time, she is happy to see she still has a few minutes before she has to leave. After finishing her coffee she gives Toby one last hug before leaving for the day.

The first few hours at work were slow, nothing of importance coming in and no new people for her to take care of. Since she is the head of her department, she decides to go through some of the old files that have she’s been slowly updating to the new system. Just before she considers stopping for midmorning tea that all changes.

Greg comes striding in, a frustrated look on his face as he does so, “Oh, hello Molly, happy to see its you and not one of your assistance, Sherlock will be along in an hour or so, along with five bodies, to say we need answers immediately would be an understatement.”

She nods, putting her papers away after marking where she is so she can pick up where she left off. “Is there anything you can tell me about them now?” she queries as she grabs a clipboard and pen to take notes.

He rubs a tired hand across his face, “Two men, at least in their thirties, one man in his twenties, a woman in her thirties, and a teenager whose gender was not immediately obvious. There are no physical injuries on them, the house tested clean for carbon monoxide, I have them testing now for any other airborne toxin or poison now. The woman was found by her neighbor when she came to return a baking dish by the front door, spotted when she looked in the window. The others were found by law enforcement.”

Quickly jotting the information down she makes several notes on things to check for. “Alright, that helps, I’ll still read the reports, but this way I have an idea ahead of time what sort of things to check for.”

He nods in response, straightening up and sighing softly.

“You alright?” she inquires softly, stepping just a bit closer and looking up at him, blinking she realizes she never actually said hello so she murmurs, “Hello Detective Inspector,” with a mischievous smile.

Softly chuckling he replies, “’Ello Doctor Hooper, I’ll be alright, I don’t like cases that are not clear cut and this is definitely not clear cut.”

She nods, “Understandable,” she replies before tilting her head and playing with the end of her ponytail for a moment, “Everything else alright?”

He shrugs, “Eventually, lot to think about actually, you?”

“’Bout the same, it is a lot to think of,” she bites her lip as she answers. Part of her wanting to ask him if he is feeling overwhelmed by the conversation of the night before but is not sure whether she should or not.

His eyes narrow as he looks at her, and she finds herself wanting to confess everything in her mind right now and wonders if this is what suspects feel like.

“What’s wrong? You have that harried expression of someone ready to enter overload.” His voice softens as he continues, “I would like to think we were friends before this entire mess began, so you have something you want or need to talk about, I am here for you.”

She blushes, slightly embarrassed to be so easily read and for having not thought about the fact that there had been plenty of times in the past when they had spoken of their problems, though mostly hers, while she works on a body he is waiting for the results for. “I just woke up with a lot of question and I am not sure how to go about asking them, I get so nervous and…” her voice trails off, she excels at her job and getting things done here, but on personal matters she is not nearly as confident.

As she is speaking and listening, she gathers what she thinks she will need to take care of those coming in.

He nods once before suggesting, “Write them out and send them with your report in a sealed envelope or give them to me later. I’ll make sure they are asked during our next meeting.”

Smiling gratefully she nods, “Alright, thank you,” she tells him. Any further conversation is ended by the delivery of the first of the five bodies.

“I need to get back to my office, but if you need anything, and I mean it, just call,” he tells her with a smile before turning to the door.

Smiling softly, she responds, “Alright. Take care, I will call when I or Sherlock has answers,” before she turns to start the testing on the first person.

 Time flies for her as she works on the first man, the ID they found identifies him as Jason Hodgeson, age thirty-three. While she is working they bring the other four in, laying each out carefully on one of the bed. She worked through lunch and she worked through dinner, she even managed to work through Sherlock’s rather subdued visit. When she was done with Jason she moved on to the next male, Thomas Hodgeson, thirty-seven, from him to the youngest male, Ethan Hodgeson, age twenty-nine.

She doesn’t stop until she finds herself swaying in place, only she is shocked to find a thermal full of hot tea to her preference and a selection of half-sandwiches waiting for her on her desk. There is no note but the sandwiches are from Speedy’s right below the Baker Street flat which makes her pretty certain she knows who they are from.

Grabbing her phone she texts Sherlock since she knows he will probably still be up.

-Did you leave sandwiches and tea here earlier?- (: MH

-No. Mycroft had it delivered.- SH

-What!?- (: MH

-Mycroft. Sent. You. Lunch. – SH

She can just about hear the ‘do keep up’ attached to that last text message and blinks at it a few more times.  Checking her phone, she is surprised to discover she does not actually have Mycroft’s number.

-What’s his number? I want to thank him.- (: MH

A minute later her phone chirps again with two phone numbers, the first is marked as Mycroft’s and the second is marked as A’s. It takes her a minute to realize that it is the politician’s assistance.

-If he cannot be reached, she can be.-SH

-Thank you- (: MH

She sends that one to both brother’s before putting her phone back in her pocket and settling at her desk to eat.

Her two assistance knock at the door, the first giving her a questioning look before asking, “Do you want us to help with the Hodgeson’s family?”

After finishing her bite, she shakes her head, “No, I thought I heard another one come in?”

The second assistant nods, “Yes, Kimberly Knight, age seventy-two, heart failure.”

“Was there any signs of heart issues?” she inquires looking up at the second assistant. 

“Well, no,” he frowns, “but she’s seventy-two, that has to be it.”

Sighing, she finishes her sandwich before replying to that foolish comment, “If there are no previous signs of heart problems, you need to actually check her to discover why she died. Mike, you know that,” she gently scolds the first.

He flushes, nodding once before turning around and heading into the other room.

For a minute Allan glances between her and his partner before nodding and going to join him.

Sighing, she stands and stretches, taking one last sip of her tea before closing the thermos and returning to her work. Since she had completed the three brothers already, it is time to do the sister, Cara Hodgeson, age thirty-six. When she is done with the mother she moves on to the last one in the group, the teenager. As soon looks at Alex Hodgeson, age thirteen, she understands why the detective inspector was having such a difficult time placing the child’s gender. Between clothing and appearance, Alex is rather androgynous. After carefully removing the child’s clothing, she notes why and sighs in understanding before beginning her work.

Several hours later after she has completed the autopsies on all five of them, run the blood tests, toxicology reports, determines what their last meal was, and discovers cause of death. She has determined that they all died of heart failure. Since all five of them had perfectly healthy hearts prior to dying, that means it was poison.

Frowning, she heads to her desk, pulling the file folder she keeps on unusual deaths out and flipping through it, finding three others who had died of heart failure even though they were all perfectly healthy with no reason to die of heart failure. Glancing at her watch she sees what time it is and sighs, now would not be good to call the detective inspector, it’s nearly three am.  Instead she writes up the reports, hesitating on how to label Alex on the gender section, many people would not accept intersex even though it is a perfectly valid gender assignment. By the time she is done with the paperwork it is just about five am, and she is feeling a bit tired. Officially her shift ended twelve hours ago, but she was determined to get this done as soon as possible for the victims and she was not leaving it in the hands of the trainees, not when they were being lax lately.

Heading back to her office, she curls up on the small loveseat in the corner, napping for a few hours until an hour before her the beginning of her next shift.  Stretching, she grabs the change of clothes that she keeps here and then borrows the shower in the staff locker room in order to get cleaned up. Once she is cleaned, she stops in her office to put her clothes back only to discover that there is another thing of food, this time from somewhere else because it is a complete breakfast.

Smiling, she settles into her seat to eat the breakfast, sending off another thank you to Mycroft. When she is done, she rests her head on her hand, and considers the politician for a minute. She had really not expected to get dinner or breakfast from him. Actually considering his schedule she was shocked he had time to do so. Sighing, she decides to consider him and his actions later, after she has dealt with this case and has got the more in depth answer. Hopefully by the end of today she would have her answer for what caused heart failure in these five victims.

Dialing up the detective inspector’s number, she waits for him to answer wither note sheet in front of her.

“Lestrade,” he answers the phone, and she has a feeling he did not check the number.

“Umm, hello, it’s Doctor Hooper, Molly, I have the tests initial done,” she greets him and stammers out not sure how she should talk to him right at the moment and too tired to think it through.

“Ah, excellent, I will be there in half hour, if that’s alright?” he replies.

Smiling in relief she nods before she realizes he cannot see it and answers, “That works great.”

Getting off the phone she goes to check the machine to see if it has identified the compounds in them or not, found what had poisoned five perfectly healthy people. As luck would have it, it comes up with identification just as the detective inspector is walking in the door.

“That a good sound?” he inquires in way of greeting, as he glances around the room, taking note of the changes she is sure.

“I yes, it is the answer to what toxin killed them. All five were poisoned and died of heart failure as a result. It hit roughly all of them at the same time, though Cara seems to have got it the least.” She replies as she heads over to the machine, “According to this it was aconite poisoning,” she frowns, “someone gave them wolfsbane?”

“Really?” he sounds a bit shocked, “That’s an uncommon one.”

“I think it has happened three other times, but as the deaths were ruled heart failure by the doctor taking care of them, I was not allowed to do further testing past the standard. Since this was a possible murder I could and no one could complain.” She remarks softly.

“Get me the files on the other three and if there is still a body I’ll make sure you can get it to test, would the toxin still be there?” he states calmly.

She nods once, “Yes, it would be. Though I know the family of the second victim had his body cremated, the first and third are still around.”

“Well then, I’ll get them, please tell Sherlock about your find,” he comments while she fetches the names and information out of her odd death book. After she hands it to him, he nods, quickly skimming all of the information she has given him on all eight cases. “Thanks, Molly. Hey, tomorrow if your free would you like to have lunch? Nothing big, just sit down and relax.”

It takes her a minute to switch from work to not, and she finds herself hesitantly answer, “I, yeah, that would be nice,” just barely managing to not stammer as she speak though it is a close thing.

“Good,” he replies with a smile, then turning his attention back to the paper work he glances at her questioningly as he queries, “Intersex?”

“Alex was born with the full female genitals and partial male genitals. Alex’s mother Cara was allowing zir to figure it out on zir own, whether zie wished to be male or female.” She replies, taking a minute to remember what the gender-free words were instead of she-he and him-her.

His eyes narrow as if he is thinking of something and he quickly flips through to the information about the first three. “Two are genderfluid and one is transgender, these are hate crimes.”

She nods slowly, not saying anything because she has a feeling he is not done.

“I think there is actually a few more cases, if I have the remains brought to you, can you check them?” he inquires politely.

“Of course,” she answers, curious where they were going to be coming from.

“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements,” he states clearly, his mind miles away and whirling, he’s so distracted by his thought that he almost leaves without saying goodbye, pausing just by the door and turning to her with a warm smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow, say half eleven? For lunch.”

She nods one more time and he leaves without another word, his phone already in his hands as he gives his sergeant orders.

Returning to her work, her mind often drifts to all of the new facts that she has learned about the four men. It is shocking that the only one who really has not surprised her is Sherlock. He has continued to act like his surly self with way too much attitude, but then that’s him. She was actually a bit excited about the idea that she was going to discover new things about them. Maybe this could work. She gave the list of questions to Greg already, so hopefully that will be dealt with. Still there is a lot more to think about, maybe she should get a journal to write it all down in, including putting her pros and cons lists for later review to see if anything changes.


	7. Lunch with Greg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing! Literally! Want me to write more, leaving more reviews never fails.
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!

_Molly’s POV_  
By the time she gets off of work, she was ever so happy that she pays Andrea next door to take care of her pets when she works ridiculously long shifts. Particularly since it has been nearly thirty hours since she was home last. Would she be able to make a similar arrangement for her animals at Baker Street? Yet another question for her to write on the list that seems to be growing.

Sighing, she decides to stop off at the Tesco on the way home in order to purchase a thick new leather journal, several different colors of pens, and a collection of stickers, taking her time to pick out stickers. Choosing ones that remind her of Toby, Cleo, Lu and La. It’s a serious subject but she needs to lighten up somehow because otherwise it might be just a bit too much. Once she has her selections, she pays for them before heading outside planning to catch a cab and surprised when a sleek black car pulls up.

At first she tries ignoring it, but it keeps pace with her, blocking her from the road, finally she steps a little closer, tilting her head and giving it a curious look. A moment later the door open and a posh woman’s voice beckons her.

“Please get in Doctor Hooper,”  the woman states.

Sighing, she does as directed, she has heard of Mycroft kidnapping people for conversations before from John and Greg, maybe that is what this is.

“Hello Doctor Hooper,” a beautiful, dark-haired woman holding a Blackberry states and she realizes this is the assistant she has heard mentioned.

“Oh, hello, ummm A?” she replies softly, “What can I do for you?”

Lowering her phone the beautiful woman stares at her inquiring, “What are your intentions towards Mr. Holmes?”

“Mr. Holmes?” she repeats, is she referring to her boss or both of them?

“Mr. Mycroft Holmes,” the dark-haired woman remarks, then repeats, “What are your intentions towards him?”

“I. . . ummmm. . . marriage?” she answers hesitantly.

The other woman’s eyes narrow as she stares at her, “Do you plan to claim the affections of one Doctor Watson?”

“We’re friends, it is my understanding that those three, John, Sherlock, and Mycroft are an item. Get one, get them all. I….” she responds slowly before trailing off not sure what else to say, “I think my main relationship will be with Greg.”

Dark eyes narrow at her before the other woman replies, “They are.”

Frowning, her eyes narrow in response before commenting, “Listen A, Sherlock asked me to be the female required by the law because I am friends with him, John, and Greg. He picked me because he trusts me not to interfere with their relationship. I am not planning on doing anything to get between those three. But we will be in a relationship, so I hope we can gain some sort of closeness.”

A smile curves the other woman’s lips, “Excellent. I am pleased to hear that. Mr. Holmes is an introvert, I worry about him, he is too important to be wasted on this law and to be harmed because of it. Good evening, Doctor Hooper.” With that the door swings open and she gets the impression she is being dismissed.

“Ummm good night, A,” she mutters before she slides out of the car, surprised to discover that they are at her flat.

While she is giving a small shake of her head, the driver closes the door and gets back in without say a word. A moment later the sleek car is pulling away.

Still shaking her head, she heads inside, going directly to her flat and unlocking the door. As soon as she is inside she is greeted by her cat running up to her, meowing loudly and butting his head against her leg repeatedly. “Hey baby boy,” she murmurs as she walks over to the counter and sets her bag down, “C’mere boy,” she calls, patting her leg.

Trotting over, the cat stops by her feet for a moment, gathering himself up and before pouncing upwards, right into her waiting arms. For a few minutes she simply holds him, rubbing her head against the top of his head before she shifts her grip on him so that she can grab the bag before heading into her bedroom. After setting her cat and bag of supplies down, she goes and opens the bird cage, gently stroking Cleo’s feathers for a few moments before fetching a piece of fruit from the kitchen for her. Smiling at her bird, she gives her one more stroke before allowing her to fly around the flat for a bit. Since she is thirsty, she gets herself some fizzy drink from the fridge before deciding to return to her room. Upon entering the bedroom she has to chuckle at the sight of her cat playing with the bag.

“Toby love, I need the stuff in the bag, come cuddle,” she states as she pats her lap and makes little noises at him.

Making little merring noises, he eventually crawls up on her lap, stretching out down her left leg, leaving her free to write and use her other leg to support the journal. For the next several hours she takes the time writing out long lists of questions, concerns, ideas, and everything she knows about each of the men that she is about to be married to. It does not surprise her that the Mycroft list is the shortest one in the bunch, particularly since he is the one that she has the least amount of dealings with. She uses various colors for different things. Red for things with negative references and meanings, the cons. Blue is used for neutral notes, ideas, references, and meanings. Green is used for everything positive she can think of, all of the pros. Black is used for everything else, random thoughts and idea that might not be related exactly to what she is writing but she wants to record for later. The questions list is also written in black to make it easier to read.

When she finally gets to a point where she feels she can stop, she realizes that it has been four, nearly five hours since she first started. For a moment she considers making herself something to eat for dinner but decides against it, putting all of the stuff on her night table before going to get a quick bite of cheese and crackers before going to bed.

After locking all of the doors and windows she puts Cleo back in her cage before heading to bed.

In the morning she is awake before the alarm goes off which is nothing new. Stretching, she delights in the feel of being on her own bed. Grabbing her journal, she makes sure that she writes her question about whether she will be keeping any of her furnishings. After giving Toby a quick pet she gets up and wanders into her bathroom, deciding to shower now before breakfast. Once she is cleaned up, she slips on the bath slippers, wraps herself in the towel and heads into her room to pick out her clothes for the day.

Greg had called it a simple lunch, so would normal work clothes work or should she take something nice with her? Or maybe wear something that was a little bit nicer than normal, but could still be worn for work? Yes that will do. So that is what she does, selecting a fairly nice but not too nice outfit to wear to work. Once dressed she makes sure all of the animals are fed, giving pets to Toby and Cleo before grabbing some fruit and heading to the tube station to go to work.

Her morning goes fairly smoothly, though she gets notice that one of the bodies that she had requested will be there first thing in the morning. Since there is no one new, she takes her two assistants, Mike and Chris today, through the process of working on updating paperwork styles, explaining why the new system is better than the one they are changing from, and helping them to get started on their assigned cases. One thing is for sure, as part of a teaching hospital, she rarely has time to be truly bored, even when there are not people to work on.

Just shy off half eleven she makes sure to wash her hands and get all of her papers in order, it is her plan to take a long lunch. As the clock strikes thirty after, Greg comes walking in the morgue, eyes sweeping the room and spotting her almost instantly.

“Hullo Molly,” he greets her before querying, “Ready for lunch?”

She nods, standing and replying, “Hello Greg,” she smiles, giving a small nod, “I am.”  


The two of them leave the morgue after she gives last minute instructions and head out to the curb side where his car is waiting. Upon getting in the car, the two of them join traffic and head off, she considers asking where they are going, but decides against it, choosing instead to just try relaxing. She had shoved the journal in her purse, making sure that she would have it with her so she can give him the list that is within it.

A few minutes later they are pulling up in front of a small café, parking in the small side lot, and getting out of the car. The two of them quietly walk into the café, moments later being shown to a booth towards the back with menus and glasses of water being set down for them.

“Thanks for agreeing to lunch,” he remarks as he slides into his seat and glances around the room.

Smiling, she nods, “Thank you for inviting me,” she responds.

The two of them are silent for a few minutes while she looks through the menus, apparently he has been here before because he does not look through the menu. When the waitress gets back for their orders, he gets a meat lovers sandwich with a bowl of vegetable stew and coffee, before glancing in her direction and waiting for her. Several items look tasty but she chooses a chicken and fruit salad with peach tea.

“So, how’s everything been past the law?” he inquires sipping at his water.

Tilting her head a bit, she takes her time answering, “It has been alright. Some of my new trainees do not take it seriously enough, liking to take the short route rather than actually do the work so I have to set them straight. Remind them of their responsibilities."

He nods with a look of understating on his face, "We get new ones like that sometimes too. That’s when we take them to the worst crime scenes. It either makes or breaks them."

Chuckling she remarks, "I almost feel bad for them." A small mischievous smile curves her lips, "Almost, 'till I remember they choose this job and shouldn't do it if they cannot handle it."

Before anything else is said, the waitress returns with their food, setting it down in front of them and querying if they need anything else, after both of them say no, she floats off, going to help another customer.

“That sandwich looks surprisingly good,” she tells him as she eyes his rye bread sandwich with honey ham, brown sugar ham, turkey, salami, pepperoni, roast beef, chicken, bacon, provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. “Though how do you eat it? It’s so big.”

He chuckles, picking it up and squeezing the edges together, “Carefully, it taste great though, almost all of the foods here are fresh made.”

She chuckles as she watches him for a minute before starting in on hers. For a little bit the two of them merely eat their lunches without talking, just enjoying their silence. When they start talking, it is simple things, him asking after her pets, her asking how his last trip to see his sister and her children went. From there the topics jump from families to interests to weather to random favorites. He seems surprised that she knows so much about him, but then people never realize how often she hears and remembers things. Besides, last night she spent hours intentionally trying to remember every single detail she knows about all four of the men that her life was soon to be tied to.

Twice the waitress refills their drinks.

As they finish up their lunch, he makes an order to go, “Emma, a piece of peach cobbler to go please.” Glancing over at her, he queries, “Would you like a dessert for later?”

She blinks at him for a minute before nodding once, “Do you have any Dutch apple pie?” she asks the waitress with a small smile.

“We do indeed,” the older woman replies, smiling back, “That it for you honey?”

“Yes please,” she replies blinking at being called honey, not a lot of people call her honey. Once the waitress is gone, she looks over at him asking, “Emma?”

“I order lunch from here on days I know it’s going to be a long one, and pick it up on my way through, as such I know the entire staff here.” He answers with a grin.

Chuckling, she nods, “I had a bakery near my flat where I do the same thing sometimes,” she remarks.

“Did you get that list done?” he inquires as the waitress puts the two to go boxes down and hands him the bill.

He quickly glances at it and pulls some money out of his wallet, she reaches for her purse but he shakes his head, “I got this, beside,” he flashes a grin at her, “I invited you, manners say I pay.”

“Are you sure?” she questions, hand still on her purse.

He nods, “Of course.”

Standing, he sets the money on top of the bill before picking up his box of pie, and offering her a hand up. Grabbing her box, she accepts and the two of them leave the café.

“I have the list in my purse, I made a copy for you, and a copy for me,” she answers the question he had asked right before paying.

“Great, I’ll make a copy for John or let him copy mine for his book of things we’re dealing with regarding this,” the older man states.

Relieved, she nods, “Thank you,” her voice is soft, quiet even.

“No problems, that’s what friends do,” he answers with a small smile, opening the door to the car for her he asks, “Back to Barts?”

“Yes please,” she answers as she slides into the car, “I still have a bit of time left on today’s shift, plus I am getting ready for the possible murder victims showing up tomorrow.”

Closing the door and going around to his side of the car, he slides in before answering, “Alright,” a moment later they are on the road again. Not long after he is pulling back into the hospital’s parking lot and parking. Like a proper gentlemen he walks her from the car to her office before telling her, “Have a good day Molly, take care of yourself, I’ll talk to you when I know something new or you do.”

Smiling a bit shyly she replies, “Have a good day Greg,” and watches him walking away. Setting the pie on her desk, she puts her purse and coat away before going to check on her assistance and discovering where they are at in their assignments. After all there is almost ten years of information she wants redone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am basing Toby the Cat's actions on Cotton, a cat that I used to have before she got ill and passed away.


	8. Pub Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing! Literally! Want me to write more, leaving more reviews never fails.
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!

Greg's POV  
When Friday night arrives he is happy to get away from the office and the work, heading to the pub in order to meet up with John for a few drinks, fish and chips, and to discuss things. It has been a while since they have had a night out, since Sherlock got home the previous December they have had less of them. For that first month the doctor had stayed home with the younger man, making sure he took it easy and healed. He had been surprised when Mycroft had effectively moved in with them, but since every time he saw the politician at the flat it was coming out of the upstairs bedroom. After that, it seemed that they tended to meet for drinks only once a month, sometimes twice, but not nearly as often as they had prior.

Giving a shake of his head, he heads to his car, bidding the rest of his team goodnight before climbing in and heading to the pub he always meets with John at. Once there he takes a seat at the same booth they prefer to sit at, ordering pints and dinner for both of them, and waiting.

While he waits, he thinks about the situation they are in. This new law was going to be royal pain, between domestic abuse cases and murder for cheating, particularly now that there would be required multiple partners.

So John is in a relationship with Mycroft and Sherlock. From what he had seen, it was the doctor who guided the other two. Both of the geniuses seemed to look to the smaller man for support. They both answered to him, and he recognized the easy way in which they listened as habit. Habits like that took time to develop. Yet in public he could not recall a single time that John had ever acted like that with them. Actually, he can’t even think of a single time he was at their flat and noticed anything between them past the vibes he had always gotten between the doctor and consulting detective.

He had always suspected that the doctor and consulting detective of being a couple. The way they often strayed into each other’s comfort zones without problems. A protective manner that been shown to everyone from day one. The looks they used to give each other when they though no one was looking, including each other. The fact that John was the only person he had ever seen the dark-haired genius apologize to, even if it was not a direct apology except that one instance with Molly at Christmas. There were hundreds of other little things that had made him feel that way too, but he had never had anything concrete to prove it.

Before he has a chance to turn his thoughts to Mycroft and John, the doctor slides into his spot across from him in the booth.

“Hello Greg,” the younger man greets him as he takes his pint, “Thanks.”

“Hullo John, happy to see you could make it,” he replies with a bit of a friendly smirk.

Smirking back, the younger man states, “It’s all good, they need a night to themselves since Myt just getting home, and I get to have a good time with a friend without having to worry about answering how life is at home.”

“I was going to ask you about that, why did you hide it?” he inquires with a curious look.

Taking a long swig of his pint the doctor replies, "'Cause it's our business, we do not advertise our relationship. Particularly since prior to this law our relationship could have landed all of us in jail, no reason to risk our careers and lives."

Several minutes pass in silence while he thinks about it. He had not considered the fact that it was illegal for brothers to sleep together. It could ruin Mycroft’s career, John’s too for being a party to it. While he never would have said anything or have taken them in. There were plenty of others who would have just to be spiteful. He can understand why they would not want to make it public but why not be straight with him? They were friends, weren’t they? Except, it was his office that caused part of the problems that led to the Fall. They had managed to keep their friendship following it, but it had lost a lot of the ease that it had prior to it.

“Makes sense,” he eventually replies after finishing his drink. “So why now?”

Shrugging the doctor waves the waitress over, ordering another round before he answers, “Well contrary to what Sherlock says, you’re not an idiot. You would have figured it out, particularly since the three of us share a room.” A small smile plays at the doctor’s lips, one goading him into figuring out the answer.

“Honesty within the relationship,” he mutters as the waitress sets their drinks and dinner plates down, “You listed it as one of the requirements.”

The doctor just shrugs, “I think talking is an important part of the relationship process. We’ll never directly be in a relationship together. However we will be married to the same person, so in my book it still counts.”

Downing the last of his second pint, his head bobs as he responds, "Yeah," with a small smirk behind his bottle.

For a bit the two of them are silent, their eyes drawn to the TV that has the match on. While the two of them both watch it, sipping at their pints and snaking on their chips, he knows that if anyone was to ask him about it later he would be unable to answer anything on it. His mind is more focused on the situation at hand. As the game comes to an end, his attention turns back to the doctor who is sitting back in his bench, relaxing, and yet he can tell that there is awareness there of probably far more than he normally would suspect.

This John, the one sitting across from him now, reminds him more of the John who used soft words and quick looks to keeps one of the most scything men he knows from lashing out during dinner. It is the same version he can remember seeing at crime scenes where the suspect made the massive mistake of trying to attack even after they were caught. It’s the soldier version, not the doctor, not the civilian. That realization is startling, particularly considering the fact he has seen it lots of times but this is the first time he has actively put a name to it. He’s actually curious how many times this version of John has been the one guiding his friend, how many times it wasn’t the laid back civilian or the caring doctor dealing with a situation. How often the soldier had dealt with a problem without ever revealing it was the soldier, not the doctor or civilian.

Giving a shake of his head, he calls over the waitress for more drinks, waiting until he has it to ask, “You really think he is interested in me?"

A harsh chuckle escapes the younger man before he responds, “Yeah, he’s interested.”

“Why?” he questions before taking another drink, “I mean, what is he interested in?”

“Do I look like a mind reader? That’s their gig, not mine,” the doctor replies, “I just accept both as is. They accept me as is. It works for us.”

“Oh,” he responds, setting his drink aside without finishing it. Already on number four, he might want to slow down a bit so he doesn’t get wasted, though on the plus side he does not work tomorrow.

“It’s alright you know, all good, I expect you’ll have things you want to ask,” the younger man eventually comments, though his eyes are focused elsewhere, watching a pair of men near the counter but not in a friendly sort of way.

“I’m not sure what to ask,” he shrugs, flushing slightly, “There is a lot of things I wonder about but it seems somehow off asking.”

Chuckling again, his friend eats some of the fish on his plate before remarking, “Oh-kay.”

For a few minutes the two of them eat in companionable silence while he tries to figure out what he wants to ask and how, what he comes up with is handing over Molly’s list of questions instead which he has in his coat pocket. Giving a small shake of his head, he fishes it out, before passing it to the younger man.

“Molly had more questions and things she was curious about but didn’t know how to ask, so I had her write them down for me, I have a copy, you have a copy,” he explains, giving a small shake of his head.

“I’ll look them over tomorrow, when I am not half wasted,” the doctor replies with a crooked smile as he tucks the paper into his inner coat pocket and fastens it shut. “So, have you worked up what you wanna ask?”

Chuckling he continues to think for a few minutes before picking what he wants to ask. Scratching the back of his head he responds, “Sort of, how does that work? The three of you? I don’t mean physically, I mean emotionally?”

Still smiling crookedly, the younger man answers, “Carefully, you might be a bit surprised to learn that both are a bit submissive privately.”

“You’re joking right?” he questions incredulously, “Those two are some of the most dominate personalities I have ever met!”

Shrugging, the doctor eats a chip before responding, “Sometimes the most dominate people need the control taken out of their hands so they can just relax.”

Shaking his head, he cannot help but sigh, “Wow.”

“Myt is shy, he’ll never reach out to you. If you choose to see if there can be anything between you, you will be the one making the active first move.” The doctor tells him seriously, “I’ll understand if you wish to have a primary relationship with Molly, while we keep our primary relationship, and then we can just sort of swing together, since sharing Molly is required by law.”

The idea that Mycroft Holmes is shy is a hard one to understand until he considers the fact that Mycroft was probably one of those children who was taunted for being too intelligent. He considers the way Sherlock used to nettle him about his weight, and thinks that the consulting detective probably wasn’t the only person to do so. He considers the fact he is known as the Iceman, full of cold fury and rage. A person cannot have cold fury if they are passionless. So he knows from that alone that he has passion, bur if he is shy that explains why he allows himself cold fury over any other emotion, he would never wish to put himself out there as shy. An introvert, preferring his own space, hence the office upstairs even though he sleeps with the other two. He’s never heard the politician yell.

Does he want to see if there could be something between them? Does he want to find out if there could be something between them? What about his friendship with John? Would pursuing something with Mycroft be a danger to that friendship? Is there enough in common between himself and the politician to consider trying something? He would have to wait and see. See how things developed.

“So, how do you feel about this law?” his friend inquires with a tilt of his head as he finishes his food.

“Not happy,” he replies, “Really, not happy, do you realize how many murders are caused by relationships going bad? How many times I have had to deal with stalkers gone wrong?”

The doctor nods, “I have to, I work in the medical field, what happened with Andy, I see that sort of thing all the time in both adults and children.”

Again the pair of them falls quiet for a little bit, before he asks, “Not gay?”

The doctor’s chuckle is off-tone, “I’m heterosexual, as a rule I find women attractive. However I am also sapiosexual, finding high intelligence attractive. I am not attracted to my boys because they are male. I’m attracted to them because they’re brilliant, physical packaging is secondary.”

Waving the waitress over to get another pint, he inquires, “Is that a new development?”

Shrugging, the younger man remarks, “Yes and no, it started when I met Sherlock. Only I didn’t exactly realize it until he was gone. So I did some research, looked into the different types of sexuality,” he pauses as the waitress sets their drinks down, “and came to an understanding with myself. Then came the day I met Andy, that night after I got home Mycroft came to the flat and I realized it wasn’t only Sherlock’s intelligence that I found attractive.”

“So you pinned him to a wall?” he know he sounds a bit disbelieving but he has a hard time picturing the elder Holmes brother allowing himself to be pinned to the wall.

“Yeah,” the doctor sips at his pint, “Pinned him to a wall and kissed him senseless, and then some.” For a few long minutes the younger man is quiet before he remarks, “It was nearly a month before I heard from him again, and then it was because I texted him, not because he got in touch with me. Somewhere between leaving the flat and when he got done working the next day he convinced himself I was just playing a cruel hoax on him, or something of that nature.”

Snorting, he questions, “He does realize that’s not what you do, right?”

“Now he does, back then he was convinced that the only reason anyone would want him was for his position. That he is unattractive and not worth caring for,” downing what’s left of his pint, the doctor shoves the empty mug aside, “that took awhile to get past.”

Shaking his head he mutters, “Wow, he really thought that he was unattractive? Both of them know how to dress to the nines and he seriously thought that?”

“Too many years being taunted for his weight by his brother and other people, from what I have gathered, prior to me, no one ever told him he was attractive without his suits.” The doctor remarks, “One brother is completely aware of his physical looks and uses them to his advantage, the other was completely unaware.”

“It must get difficult,” he states, as he starts to feel a bit drowsy, might not be best to drive because his fifth pint is making itself known.

“Not really, outside of the flat the boys still snip at each other, but inside the safety of home, they’re a lot more affectionate.” Blinking at him, the younger man queries, “Feeling the pints yet?”

“Oh yeah, was just thinking about the fact it might not be wise to drive,” he replies with a chuckle.

“One sec, I’ll get us a ride,” the doctor remarks as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, it take two tries to get the message he wants texted done according to his grumbling, but a few moments later he has it done. “They’ll be here in a few.”

“Who’d you text?” he queries as he turns slightly to glance around, there is something about to happen according to years of being a copper’s instincts, he’s just not sure what it is.

“Anthea, she’ll send one of Myt’s cars with two drivers, one to take you home, and one to take me home.” the younger man responds as he waves the waitress over, “Bill please sweetheart,” he tells her when she queries if they want another round.

“Really? But aren’t those for work?” he questions, he knows that Mycroft has his own vehicle, though he rarely sees him using it.

“Actually he has three that are provided by his job, two for work purposes, and two for private purposes to make sure he is not injured driving.” Chuckling the younger man stands up and stretches a bit, “He rarely uses his vehicle, so the other three get a lot of use. I know all four drivers.”

Returning to their table where they are both standing beside, the waitress states, “The bill has already been paid, Joey was told to make you a tab, and given a card number a few months ago,” her eyes flicker between the two of them curiously.

Shaking his head, the doctor remarks, “Thanks for telling us,” before taking a few pounds out and dropping them on the table after she walks away.

“Tab?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Our politician trying to be useful if I am not mistaken,” the younger man answers, “If he knows of somewhere you go a lot to eat, don’t be surprised if a tab appears there for you. It took me months to get used to it, and there are times it still bugs me, but I let him do it ‘cause it’s easier than causing strife.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Alright then.”

The two of them head towards the door, not necessarily the smoothest of movement but not falling down drunk either. He is fairly certain that John has the same type of high buzz going on that he has, which is alright considering.

They have just stepped out the door when those two men from earlier follow them, and he hears the soft sigh that escapes the doctor as he turns to face them. “Really blokes, not a good idea, just keep moving.”

“We’ll say what’s a good idea,” the one snaps in response.

“Hey! This is that guy who put Tommy in jail!” one of them exclaims pointing at him.

Two others approach from somewhere and he feels more than sees the doctor’s posture change the rest of the way into soldier mode. Knowing it would not be a good idea to get between the younger man and his target if it comes to that he states, “I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade, get a move on it, and we’ll let this pass.” He really does not want to be doing paperwork at this time of morning while nearly drunk.

“I say we teach them a les—“ the thug does not get a chance to finish his sentence as John has slammed his fist into his jaw before bashing the other blokes head into a wall. Spinning to face the other two he merely raises an eyebrow before they bolt as well.

“Idiots,” he grumbles, “Oh good Anthea, get rid of these two would you? Thanks beautiful,” the doctor remarks as he looks at the dark-haired woman stepping out of the car and glancing at the two, her fingers dancing over her phone screen.

Sighing she just shakes her head with an amused smile curving her lips, “Nathan will take the detective inspector home if you will show him to the vehicle,” she remarks as she stands there.

A tall blonde steps up next to him, nodding to the doctor and waiting patiently.

“See you later John, Anthea,” he remarks before turning and heading to his parked car. Fishing the keys out of his pocket he passes them to the tall man before climbing in the passenger’s seat and closing his eyes as he drifts. He is not going to ask how the tall man knows where they are going, assumes it is just one of Mycroft’s many intelligence notes. However he does accept being escorted to the building and getting his keys back once he is in. Tomorrow, when the haze has worn off he will think about their conversation a bit more. For now, bed time, he can shower when he wakes up.


	9. Operation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing! Literally! Want me to write more, leaving more reviews never fails.
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks goes to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for her being my sounding board while I was working on this chapter!
> 
> Holmescest anybody?

_Mycroft's POV_

When he finally gets home after being gone for the last two days, the first thing he wants to do is shower followed by a nice long cuddle with either of his lovers. Since it is Friday, and his doctor was supposed to meet the detective inspector for dinner and drinks, he is moderately certain it is his brother he will end up spending time with, that is alright though he enjoys spending time with him just as much as he does the blonde. Heading inside, he goes directly to the bathroom, doesn’t even both stopping to pick up clothes out of the bedroom.

Since he had not seen his brother in the living room, he must be downstairs checking out 221C again. Even though he has not spoken to the company yet about buying the buildings, his brother has already started plotting how he wants his lab set up.

In the bathroom he quickly strips down, taking off everything and throwing it into the hamper for suits that John had put in the bathroom so that they could have somewhere to put their laundry without having to carry it out to the other room. While the water heats up, he considers whether he should remove the plug for the night since his doctor is not going to be home or use the bathroom and put it back in. The idea of being ready for as soon as the blonde is home makes him decide to leave it in. Heading quickly into the kitchen just outside the bathroom, he grabs himself a glass of the nasty juice spiked with the bowel cleansing agents. While it is not something he really likes, he does drink it whenever he is hopefully just to make sure everything is perfectly clean, though they are running low, he better have the doctor mix up another batch, no way is he allowing his brother to do it after the last time.

Since the water is now at the right temperature, he clamors in, enjoying the feel of the water running down his body until the juice forces him to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s rather quick, so he can go back to enjoying the spray of the hot water. Once he is done soaking for a bit, he grabs the bathing products selecting to use John’s right now rather than his, and making a mental note to have Arabela, as she is calling herself this week, purchase more.

He is just about done when his ears perk at the sound of their flat door being shut. His brother has just realized he is home.

A moment later the bathroom door slips open and his brother silently enters, undressing and joining him without ever asking.

“I’m nearly done,” he states with a small smile, stepping back against the wall so the slender man can get cleaned up.

“I know from the amount of steam everywhere, however there should be just enough for me to get cleaned up.” His brother perkily replies with a mischievous smile.

Smirking in response he grabs the flannel and sets to washing him, not bothering to rinse off the doctors products before he does so. As long as it does not get on his brother’s dark curls all is well. Slowly, he washes every inch of the younger man, delighting in the fact he can feel him heating up beneath his fingers, arousal pulsing through his veins.

Pressing himself against his brother’s back, he nips at the younger man’s ear before suggesting, “A game of Operation, seeing which of us can win while the other is trying to distract. Anything short of penetration or blow-jobs goes.”

Groaning, his brother arches back against him, nodding once, “You’re on, winner tops.”

“Winner gets one night of their choice,” he counters with a smirk as his tongue flickers against his brother’s ear.

“Agreed,” his brother moans.

Stepping back he lets his brother turn the water off before grabbing a towel for himself and the younger man. They each take turns drying the other. Hands slowly rubbing all traces of the water off of each other’s bodies, before each wraps a towel around their waist. His brother is the first to leave the bathroom, sauntering off to the living room to set up the Operation game on the coffee table. He considers getting his night clothes on, but decides against it because he knows that before they are done for the night they will probably be having sex.

Settling in the spot closer to the fireplace, he accepts the cup of tea, sniffing it and catching whiff of the off-tone smell. Chuckling softly he sets it aside, if he gets thirsty he will go get himself something to drink.

“Don’t you want your tea?” his brother inquires innocently as he settles across from him on the floor.

“Not currently,” he replies with a small smile.

The mischievous smile he gets in response makes him chuckle, “I’ll go first,” his brother states, pulling the first card and grabbing the tweezers to retrieve his piece.

As soon as the younger man’s hand is in position to try and lift the wish bone, he reaches over and strokes one long finger across the knuckles of his hand, smirking when his brother takes a started breath. Still, the younger man manages to pull it out and set it aside in his pile before passing the tweezers.

Pulling his card, he carefully eyes it for a moment before barely moving the tweezers as he lifts out the water on the knee. To distract him, his brother reaches out one long fingered hand to run down the side of his jaw. He enjoys the contact, even tilts his head into it a bit, but still gets his piece out without issue.

He runs the tips of the tweezers up his brother’s arm while the younger man pulls his next card before dragging it down his arm and setting it in his waiting fingers. Before he runs the back of his fingers up the inside of his palm and wrist, enjoying the way his brother trembles slightly as he reaches for the part. Eyes intently focused on the piece his brother just barely gets the broken heart out and sets it off to the side with his pile.

Slowly drawing his own card, he eyes the butterfly piece, lifting the tweezers with his left hand in order to pick it up.

“Butterflies hmmm? Is that the fluttery feeling you get when John is slowly stroking ever inch of your insides with that marvelous cock of his?” the younger man queries, his voice a low husky rumble which nearly distracts him from his goal as his mind recalls the last time they had taken their time, the blonde’s smooth glide as he drove him crazy.

Lifting the butterfly, he replies in a similar tone, “Perhaps, but I am not the only one who is a cock whore for it.”

He enjoys the flush that comes to his brother’s face as he accepts the tweezers.

“After all, Sher-lock,” he intentionally divides his brother’s name, “I’m the one who first got to discover just how spindled a man he is when his erection is pressing on my prostate while he sucks me off.”

Scowling, his brother touches the side of the cavity, failing to retrieve the spare ribs.  


Handing the tweezers to him, the younger man replies, “Maybe, but I was first to feel what it’s like to be buried in my brother while the doctor pounded me.”

He chuckles, easily scooping his Adam’s apple out, “You’ll have to do better than that Sherlock,” he quips with smirk.

Rolling his expressive eyes, his brother takes the tweezers and pulls a card. While he is attempting to pull the Charlie horse out, he reaches over and runs his knuckles across his brother’s collarbone, sliding it sensuously from one side to the other before dragging his fingers over his brother’s shoulder, and up the side of his throat to cup his cheek. The buzzer sounds just as he softly kisses him, barely brushing his lips across the younger man’s in a teasing motion.

Dropping the tweezers, the younger man tries to deepen the kiss but he pulls back, enjoying the look of arousal burning in those beautiful, stormy eyes.

As he attempts to lift the spare ribs, his brother reaches over and sinks his long fingers into his still moist hair at the base of his neck, finger tips gently rubbing his scalp.

“Ghmmmm,” escapes his lips as the buzzer goes off.

Smirking, the younger man keeps his hand right where it is at while he pulls his next card before taking the tweezers and reaches for his piece.

His lips curve in a combination of a mischievous smile and a smirk as he carefully watches his brother through his hooded eyes. Just as his brother goes to lift the wrenched ankle he moans low in his throat, causing his brother to jerk his head up and touch the side of the cavity, causing it to squeal.

The younger man releases the back of his head to put his hands on his hips and mock scowl at him.

Smiling serenely, he draws the next card, and delicately pulls the Charlie horse out as his brother downs what’s left of his tea.

“Really, you are just giving up?” he queries as he sets the tweezers down with a smirk.

“I was thirsty,” his brother replies defensively, stormy eyes narrow as he lifts the tweezers and pulls his next card.

Making a humming noise in the back of his throat, he gently strokes his brother’s shoulder, before trailing his fingers up his throat once more, before continuing on to gently, with a feathery touch, run them across the younger man’s jaw and chin.

Small noises escape his brother as the younger man just barely manages to get the rubber band in place, completing the ankle bone connected to the knee bone before swaying forward towards him. Leaning forward slightly, his lips meet his brothers, and the next several minutes are spent with each softly exploring the other’s lips and mouth, tongues gently stroking each other, as they merely indulge themselves in the kiss. When they finally stop, both are breathing heavy, and the pool of arousal low in his belly seems to have grown.

“My turn,” he murmurs in a husky tone as he leans forward to kiss his brother before he can try distracting him. At the same time, his right hand carefully withdraws the funny bone, using his memory of how it was situated to do so.

Groaning low in his throat, his brother’s head tilts backwards for a moment, his eyes closed as he tries to even his breathing out again. When the younger man feels that he is in control again, he takes the tweezers and tries for the writer’s cramp.

This time to distract him, he allows his long fingers to drift down his chest, intentionally passing right down the middle without touching any of his most sensitive spots. The reaction is quick. The slender man whimpers low in his throat, almost getting the part out only to drop it as the buzzer sounds and he jumps slightly.

Accepting the tweezers, he tugs the next card out, eying the wrenched ankle as he goes to remove it. He is distracted when his brother stands, dropping his towel to the floor, and slowly fisting himself.

He chuckles at himself as he hits the buzzer and sets the tweezers aside. “Make sure you do not get any on the game or pieces, John got mad at us the last time for that,” he remarks with a smirk as he continues to enjoy the show for a few minutes.

“You’re a tease,” his brother informs him as he reaches over and lays his hands flat on the younger man’s legs before leisurely drawing his hands upwards, stopping just shy of his brother’s groin.

“Maybe,” he replies smirking, “It’s your turn, or do you submit?”

Eyes dilating, his brother drops back down and accepts the challenge, drawing the next card even though they both know what it is going to be and trying to take the bread basket out.

“Just think about it, if we were not competing right now I could have you bent over the back of the sofa, cock buried to the hilt in your tight ass while slowly fisting your cock in time with my withdrawals and thrusts,” he continues, his voice a seductive murmurs, designed just to enflame.

“My-croft,” his brother whimpers as the buzzer goes off again.

Taking the tweezers he doesn’t even bother grabbing the card since he knows it is the wrenched ankle again, instead he keeps talking in that same tone, describing what he would do, “I would have one arm wrapped around your narrow hips, holding you in place, my tongue would drag down your spine, swirling over the bones there. Making you moan and writhe against my grip. Still I would continue to move my other hand and hips slowly, keeping you on the edge. I would wait until you were begging before even considering letting you come.”

Panting, his brother gives him a dirty look before taking the tweezers and flicking a quick glance at the top most card before trying to pull the writer’s cramp.

“Picture it Sherlock, John walking in as I do that, his eyes watching each and every motion as I continue to take you apart across the back of the sofa.” He continues, smirking as the tremble going through his brother at the image brought to the forefront of his mind makes him hit the side of the cavity again.

Once more he takes the tweezers away from his brother, grabbing the next card and sets to removing the bread basket. To keep his brother from distracting him too much, he keeps talking, “When I am sure that you cannot hold out any longer, I would switch to heavy, hard thrusts, just about bruising your plush arse as I pound you to completion.”

His brother stretches out on the floor beside the table, his hand still stroking his full member as he arches his back. Biting his lip, his brother groans.

“You can’t come until we’re done Sherlock, unless you give in,” he comments as he stands up, turning to walk around the table and kneel next to the slender, younger man, his hands gently running down his body.

Groaning, his brother arches into his hands, “Hgnnnnnn.”

Framing his brother’s face with his, he leans down and kisses him, long and slow, gently nibbling at his lower lip before his tongue flickers against it. “Give in Sherlock,” he murmurs as he starts to kiss his way down his brother’s jaw, pausing to suck on the spot where his throat meets the underside of it, his tongue lapping at jumping pulse there before working his way further down to the pulse point at the base of his throat. His brother whimpers, arching into his touch. “Do you give in?”

Closing his eyes, his younger brother sighs, nodding once, “I give.”

“Good,” he replies as he continues to kiss his way down his brother’s body as his fingers continue to skim the sleek muscles.

“My-cra-oft!” his brother gasps out, arching into his hands, his breathing harsh.

Smiling triumphantly, he continues to kiss and lick his way down his brother’s chest until he reaches his groin. There, he strokes his brother’s legs while nuzzling his nose against the soft fluff that surrounds his heavy cock. He shoves his brother’s hands away from his cock, to his brother’s sides, before running his tongue down the length of his hard cock. The next several minutes are spent with him sucking on his younger brother until he is gasping, his hips arching as he comes with a shout in his mouth.

Some of the semen drips down his jaw and his brother blinks at him before sitting up slowly, hands holding onto his shoulders while his tongue traces the path of the semen until their lips meet. Several long moments pass as they kiss, tongues dueling as his brother tastes himself on him.

“Hgmmmmnnnn,” his brother groans again, “Bedroom?”

Nodding, he gets to his feet with his brother close behind, before the two head into the other room. Once in the bedroom his brother tugs on his towel that has somehow managed to stay wrapped around his hips, allowing it to fall to the ground at their feet.

A moment later his brother drops to his knees, hands stroking his hips, sides, and flanks as he caresses his skin. Nuzzling him, his brother sniffs at his cock before lapping at his tip like an obscene lollipop, sucking on just the tip of his cock while his brother’s long fingers start stroking his cock gently before cupping his balls. One hand slips to his back, petting his ass before slipping one long finger down his crack and brushing against the black plug in his ass.

Releasing his cock for a moment his brother questions, “Anal plug?”

Gasping he nods, “For John, he promised to fuck me against that wall.” He replies as his brother goes back to sucking on him.

When he is close to the edge, his brother lets him go, scampering over to the bed and kneeling on it with his ass in the air towards him, wiggling his ass in his direction.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he catches his breath before striding over to his brother, one hand reaching for the lube while he starts to work play with his brother’s hole. Leaning down, he runs his tongue down the crack of his bothers ass before setting the bottle of lube on his back while pulling his cheeks apart and proceeding to lick him. Long moments pass as he continues to lap at him before proceeding to swirl his tongue around his brother’s hole, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue into the tight, pucker hole and softening it up. Beneath his hands and mouth, his brother is becoming excited again. He can feel the tension in him, enjoys every moan, groan, whine, and high pitch keen that escapes his brother’s lips. Every noise excites him further as he continues to work his brother open, eventually adding his fingers coated with lube to the mix as well.

“My-cra-oft, please! Now!” his brother gasps out, thrusting his hips back towards him now that his hands are no longer holding them still.

Straightening, he coats his cock in lube before lining himself up with his brother and pressing only his tip within him. Slowly kissing his way up his brothers spine as he works his way in, he only stops when he is completely covering the slender man, his cock buried in his ass to the ball, his lips nibbling at the back of his brother’s neck.

His brother’s hips try rocking, but he holds them in place as he continues to hold himself perfectly still as he continues to lick and kiss his brother’s neck.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” his brother snarls as he thrusts backwards again.

In his most imperious tone he replies, “I’m enjoying teasing you,” as he holds his brothers hips and slowly withdraws, before slamming forward again. Groaning, he takes his time, each thrust and withdraw carefully measured as he takes his brother apart beneath his hands. When his brother is nothing more than a whimpering needy mass, and his arousal is painfully hard, he switches from the measured thrusts to hard and heavy, one hand sneaking beneath his brother to stroke his cock in time. Soon the both of them are coming hard, his brother with a shout all over his hand and the bed, while he slams home one last time before coming with a hard groan. Both of them nearly collapse onto the bed, and it’s only due to muscle memory he manages to withdraw without harming him before curling on his side beside him.

His brother tucks his head against his shoulder, wedging a leg between his as the fall asleep. For a moment he considers getting up to grab a flannel and cleaning them, but is too tired from a combination of work and play time with his brother to get the energy up. Maybe he will close his eyes for just a minute.

*o-O-o*

_John’s POV_

He walks in the door after a long night at the pub with his friend, discovering that the front door is shut, that the Operation game is laying out on the coffee table, and a towel lying on the floor. Drifting to their room, he opens the door and discovers his boys on the bed. Instead of lying down long ways, with their heads on the pillows, it looks like his boys have just collapsed sideways onto the bed. Mycroft is laying mostly on his right side, one arm tucked under his head while the other is tucked around his brother, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. Sherlock is tucked up against his chest with his head pillowed against his shoulder, arm around his brother, long leg tucked between his brothers, while the other is flush against him. He can see the semen slowly drying on his ass and legs.

Smiling fondly at his boys he fetches a warm flannel to clean them up before straightening them on the bed, and tucking them under the blankets. His plan for Mycroft can wait tomorrow, for tonight he can just crawl into bed with his boys after he locks everything down.


	10. Non-Binary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks again to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help
> 
> This take place at the same day as chapters 8 and 9

_Molly's POV_  
The day after her lunch with Greg, her morgue is filled almost to capacity. The bodies she had requested have been delivered, with much grumbling from the men who had to dig them up. Along with three others who are non-gender binary and died under suspicious circumstances according to the detective inspector. She makes a quick call Andrea to alert her that she is not going to be home until sometime the following day. Thankfully, the younger girl is more than willing to check in with her animals several times and even spend some time playing with her cat and bird. She turns her attention to the newest of the five she is going to be checking.

Lin Williams, age twenty-four, mother of two, death caused by anaphylactic shock to unknown substance. Well then, the first thing she would be checking to discover is what caused it. Minutes turned to hours as she works, stopping only when needed for something to drink. By the time she is done with Lin, she has a pretty good feel for what her life was like. How she had lived and what she was like. The fact that she was born with partial male and female, though she leaned more towards female, and chose to be a female, despite being assigned male at birth. She had gone through the transition surgeries, making her more female than male, and allowing her to carry her two children, though both had been born c-section. Still, according to the markings in her skin, she occasionally wore binders, making her seem flat chested. So she also was genderfluid to her male traits, even though she had opted to be more female.

According to her work up on Lin, she died from almonds, but it was hidden within a bun, with olive oil masking the taste of it. It was part of the breakfast she had just minutes prior to death. The original autopsy done by the other hospital had registered her last meal without realizing it was what killed her.

Frowning she makes a note of it, and fills out all the paperwork before looking at the clock. Lunch time already, best to check and see what the assistance have been doing, make sure they are not flaking off and then go find something to eat.

“Where are you at in your work?” she inquires as she moves to stand next to Mike, the youngest of her male assistance currently.

He is flustered for a minute before answering, explaining how he checked over the first two bodies. One who had been in critical care from a car accident, the other who had died of natural causes. Then he had gone on to explain why they had performed each test they did.

Finally she silences him by raising her hand in the stop motion, causing him to fall quiet quickly, “Good, continue to do your job properly and write up all of your notes in details. Cleanly. I’m going to find lunch.”

He blinks at her before remarking, “A blonde man in a suit delivered a bag to your desk in the lab upstairs ten minutes ago.”

She cocks her head to the side, looking at him for a moment before questioning, “Really? Did you know the bloke?”

He shakes his head, “No, but he had a government badge that let him through.”

Nodding, she heads to her office, discovering the warm lunch waiting for her, and smiles at it. It is another one of her favorites. Since she knows only Mycroft uses minions to deliver things, she grabs her phone, quickly typing in the politician's number to send a text.

-Thank you for lunch again.- (: MH

She doesn't expect a reply and is surprised when she gets one just as she finishes eating.

-You are welcome- MH

A smile blooms on her face at the affectionate gesture.

Eating her lunch, she considers the fact that the auburn-haired spook keeps providing her with meals. She is certain he is a spook because of the shadowy way he seems to work behind the scenes. The fact that there are things that must be kept silent and all of his minions make her think that he is a high level spook. There have been plenty of times she has heard him say he is just a minor government official, but that just doesn’t seem quite right and rings false, or at least not completely true.

When she is done eating, she returns to the main part of her lab to start work on the next victim.

Keira Fuller, a beautiful woman with short hair and a pixie like face whose records show she also goes by Chris and is genderfluid between female, androgynous, and male-like. Like Alex and zir family, she had died of heart failure despite the fact she has a perfectly healthy heart.

The original M.E. had not bothered to do anything more than declare her heart failure without bothering to look into her past. She knows him, and the fact he is a bias jerk, but this is pure foolishness. He has been at this long enough to know better. Frowning, she considers the implications for a time before deciding she would have a word with him herself. If he was belligerent or whatnot then she would report him. This was unacceptable.

Since she knew what she was looking for, it took her far less time to find the cause of death than it had with the Hodgeson family. She had also died of aconite poisoning.

Sighing, she turns her attention to the next one. Sandra Mathers, also called Simon Mathers. Another genderfluid individual who seemed to spend zir time equally between genders if the way zir paperwork seems split. Time flies as she does her autopsy and testing. She is initially pleased when she discovers that Sandra was not poisoned with aconite. That pleasure vanishes the moment she finds what had killed zir: arsenic.

Sighing, her head drops as she takes into account that everyone of these people so far have died from poisoning, in painful methods, for no reason that she can understand.

Glancing at the clock, she sees there is still two hours before dinner time. Well then, might as well get to work on the next one.

Aidan Walker, female, nineteen years old. No outward signs of trauma. According to the original death record she died of suffocation. There are no signs of strangulation, suffocation, or choking. She had asthma, had apparently used her inhaler. Yet she had died due to lack oxygen. As she studies Aidan’s remains, she continues her search for the problem, finding it when she gets to her throat. It appears that when she used her inhaler she was poisoned, at least if the irritation to her throat and back of her mouth are anything to go on. Frowning, she takes samples of each to have tested before continuing on. By the time she is done with her, she is aware that the younger women often wore binder, loved to run, and enjoyed dancing.

After checking to make sure that her assistance had put their things away before leaving, she decides it is time to stop for dinner. She is just considering what she wants to eat when she decides to check her office instead. She is mildly surprised to see that there is not food sitting there considering the fact that there had been food waiting for her nearly every meal she had missed for the last few days.

It may be best to decide where to go for food. The cafeteria doesn’t sound good right now, she wants to get out of the hospital for a few minutes. Maybe the bakery down the road? No, she needs to eat something a little bit more solid than that. She is still thinking about it when she steps outside and discovers a familiar sleek black car idling by the curb.

Biting her lower lip she is considering what to do when the driver silently slides out and opens the door, one hand beckoning her closer. Finally deciding to at least see who it is, she is unsurprised to see Mycroft though he is scowling at his phone for some reason.

Still not certain what she should do, she dithers for a moment.

Apparently it is just enough time for him to complete whatever it is he is doing. Slipping his phone into a pocket, his attention turns towards her, startling her with the intensity of his expression. Then he blinks and it is gone, smoothed over like the surface of a lake. She almost prefers the intensity.

“Good evening Doctor Hooper, would you care to accompany me to dinner?” his voice is smooth, quiet, lacking any real emotion.

Blinking again, she slides into the car as she answers, “Um, yes, thank you?”

The door shuts behind her, causing her to flinch.

“Long day?” she inquires softly, trying to come up with something to break the silence.

Most the time she does not mind silence, but something about it right now is putting her on edge. Probably because less than a week ago it was decided that she would marry the man next to her, his brother, and their shared lover.

It is his turn to blink as he glances over at her, “Forgive me,” he murmurs politely, “It has been a long thirty-seven hours.”

She smiles shyly at him, “It’s alright, I’ve had a long day too.”

He inclines his head politely, silence falling between them again.

This time it does not feel as edgy or nerve wracking.

When the car stops, the driver opens the door a moment later, offering her a polite hand out. She is mildly surprised, and very happy to see it is just a small restaurant, nothing super fancy. Particularly since she is not dressed for anyplace fancy. Sliding out of the car, he politely offers his arm with all the manners of someone raised as a gentleman. Still smiling shy, she accepts his arm and he politely escorts her into the restaurant.

She can feel the tension in him beneath her fingertips.

At the booth, he politely waits for her to be seated, offering to hang her jacket up for her before sliding into the other side.

Silence once more seems to reigns as she is not sure what to say.

Clearing his throat his eyes barely settling on her for more than a moment at a time, the auburn-haired spook finally queries, “How are things in the morgue?”

“Busy,” she replies, not sure how much he know about the case related to the non-binary victims. “I hope things are going well for your job?” she is really not sure what to say in response, since she is sure he is more than just a minor government official and she does not have any sort of clearance, well that’s a general enough  question.

He nods once, replying, “Things have been successful if not pleasant.”

“That’s good,” she remarks, not sure what else to say.

Again they fall quiet as the waitress comes over to get their orders. She blushes as she realizes she had not even looked at the menu.

“Charles can make pretty close to anything you desire,” her companion mentions with a slightly upturn of his lips.

Turning towards the waitress, she queries, “Chicken and shrimp vegetable stir fry?”

“Coconut milk or butter base?” the waitress asks.

“Coconut milk,” she replies.

“Alright,” the waitress smiles at her.

“Crisp chicken salad, honey vinegar, and chardonnay for both of us.” He states clearly, his voice smooth.

“It will be twenty minutes or so, would you like something to drink besides the lemon water while waiting?” She queries with a flirty smile towards him.

“No thank you,” he replies before looking at her and asking, “Molly?”

“Hot lemon honey tea please,” she answers.

Smiling, the waitress nods before turning and leaving.

“Do you like reading?” she inquires as a way to try and start up the conversation, not sure what else to ask. This is a good time to try and get to know him. What she does know is they are both introverts, he cares a great deal about John and Sherlock, is attracted to Greg, and does not like women.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he studies her for a long moment before answering, “I do, particularly the classics in their original languages.”

“That’s nice,” she remarks, trying to figure out what exactly he considered the classics. Maybe she should ask? But he does not seem to wish to discuss it.

Silence fills the air between them as she figures out what else to attempt to talk about or if she should just sit there silently.

“I must ask your forgiveness,” the auburn-haired man murmurs, “My conversational skills do not seem to be at par tonight.”

“It’s alright,” she finds herself stating before she has even thought it through, “I have days like, particularly when I have worked for a rather long period at a time without stopping much.”

Why is she trying to reassure him? She wonders, she hasn’t done anything wrong that she can tell. Why is he so off-kilter? Something tellers her it is not because he is tired. Wracking her brain she tries to figure it out.

It is when the waitress brings their dinners that she understands, her mind replaying dinner at the flat. John’s hand had not left the older man at all through it. Even when he was writing he had kept a small bit of contact with the spook. It seemed to ground him, give him something to focus on besides her. Does she make him nervous? No, that cannot be it, they have worked together before. Sure he is cool and distant, but almost all officials who come through are cool and distant. Her job makes people uncomfortable. So it has to be something to do with the situation. Both times he has seemed off kilter is when they were in a personal situation, not a work one. Her conversation with the PA comes rushing to the forefront, adding even more to the details in her mind.

Now how to use that information without embarrassing him. Cause it makes sense now. He is worried about this budding relationship they seem to be forced into. If she had to hazard a guess, he is also concerned about her taking John or Sherlock from him. Not that that is going to happen. She doesn’t want to destroy or break their relationship. If she has to do this, and it appears she must, then she wants to build on it further. Surely they can be friends? Now how to make that happen when he was distrustful and nervous? Best way to start is by showing he has nothing to worry about. Besides, she would prefer friendly companionship to a sexual partner. So maybe they could have their own relationship like that.

“This smells delicious,” she remarks as a way to break the ice, hoping he will talk about the food since it is nothing personal.

“Charles is an excellent chef,” he replies as he slices into his grilled chicken breast.

She smiles, taking a bite of hers and and making a low humming noise in the back of her throat at how good it is. The coconut is offset by pineapple and some sort of spice that makes her tongue tingle and craving more. While the chicken is the right seasoning to make it perfect with the fruit and vegetable flavors.

“He is, this is wonderful, I don’t think I have ever had something quite like this before.” She comments before she enjoys another bite.

“John cooks like that sometimes, mostly when they have just got off a long case where Sherlock has neglected his physical needs or I have been away for a while.” He offers quietly.

She tries not to beam at him, worried it would be seen as too much emotion, but he willing shared something and  that excites her. “Really? Does he have a favorite type of food to cook?”

“He spends quiet evenings baking,” he replies, “preferring fresh bread for morning toast and the massive quantity of sandwiches they go through.”

“They go through?” she repeats, wondering why he does not count himself when she is pretty sure he lives with them

“I often eat on the go, John often makes me pasties so I will eat while working,” he answer after taking another sip of his wine.

“Do you have a favorite type he makes?” She inquires, working with this line of communication.

She’s not good at most cooking because she gets distracted easily, but she can bake up a storm so she could easily make him pasties if she knew what type. Though how to get them to him? She doesn’t know where he works at or how to give them over when the rarely see each other. Maybe she should ask her fellow doctor and the other provider of pasties.

He smiles wistfully, glancing at his salad like it really is not what he wants to be eating. “His beef pasties are without compare. I do not know how they always come out so delicious but they are quite good” Tilting his head, he continues offhandedly, “He also makes perfect fruit ones, I particularly enjoy his cinnamon pear ones.”

Nodding, she makes sure to commit that information to memory. She will have to talk with John, maybe make some arrangements for making some herself.

“I sometimes bring him new cookbooks from other parts of the world. He seems to delight in those.” He offers, eyes still flickering between her face and everywhere else.

If she wasn’t watching for it, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

Grinning, she states, “We can compare cookbooks then, I have a lot of them though I rarely use them. I tend to use the baking sections the most, and ignore the rest.”

His lips twitch again like he might smile, “You could.”

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, they discuss John and food for the most of it, rarely getting into anything personal. When they are done, he has the waitress bring them a slice of her favorite type of pie to go.

He doesn’t even ask before directing the driver to take them back to Barts where she still has work to do.

To her shock, he politely walks her back to her upstairs office.

“Have a pleasant evening Doctor Hooper,” he murmurs as he inclines his head to her.

“Molly please, considering the situation I would be more comfortable if you called me Molly.” She responds softly, trying to be polite but get him to stop calling her by her formal name.

He nods once, but says nothing, instead he turns on his heel and begins to walk away.

Part of her wants to just tell him he has nothing to fear, but she knows that the words are meaningless, she has to show him. Sighing, she heads into the office to put her pie away before heading downstairs to do her last autopsy on the non-binary victims. So far all of them had been poisoned by something that would make them stop breathing or have heart failure. She will focus on the Mycroft Holmes problem when she is done.

 


	11. Unsettled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks again to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help
> 
> Time is now moving forward again.

_Molly’s POV_  
When she finally gets done, after discovering that Hestia Jones, trans-female who had completed the transition from male to female no more than six months prior, had died of aconite poisoning though she had been dosed with arsenic as well. She carefully puts each of them up for the night, and sets to writing up the report on all of them. She also writes up a report for the medical board on the M.E. who did not do his job properly.

Afterwards, she walks home even though she lives a fair distance away. She needs to work off the sorrow and frustration the entire situation is causing her. Clear her head so that when she gets home she can start thinking about the situation of her life and the four men she is going to end up married to. When she spots the cameras swiveling towards her, she cannot stop the laughter that bubbles forth.

Apparently her spook is watching over her, or has his minions watching over her considering the lateness of the hour. Giggling, she waves at one of the cameras as she continues on her way. The fact he has her being watched is very reassuring, if someone does try something, she is sure that she would be rescued in short order. Humming, she continues on her way.

Upon getting home, she first pets Toby as he jumps straight up her body to land in her arms before crawling up on her stretch out on her shoulders. Affectionately he nuzzles her cheek while she walks over to the bird cage in order to open it so she may stroke Cleo.

“Hello my beautifuls,” she murmurs, “Has Andrea been playing with you enough?”

“Merrr,” her fur ball answers promptly, butting her head and lightly nibbling at her ear.

Hopping out of her cage and landing on her arm, her bird caws at her softly.

“I have the next two days off, I promise to spend time with the both of you. Now down so I can get your late night snacks before I go to bed,” she tells the two large animals. Why did she pick such large animals? Oh yeah, when she got both they were tiny and she never expected them to get as big as they have.

The tabby mers at her, hopping down to rub against her leg before heading over to his food dish to sit down and flick his tail from side to side.

The macaw hops up on her shoulder, nibbling lightly at her hair as she walks across the room to the kitchen. Once there she pulls some cold chicken out of the fridge and sets to dicing it up before putting it in Toby’s bowl. He immediately starts picking at it, his tail still flicking happily. Her attention then turns to Cleo, pulling a small bundle of grapes out of the fridge and putting them in a small bowl after unhooking them from the stem.  The violet and teal bird hops off her shoulder and picks at one of the grapes, her sharp beak cutting it in half before she eats each piece delicately. Next she pulls a grapefruit out to slice into quarters before putting all the extras back in her fridge and washing the counter. Walking over to the fish tank, she taps her finger on the top of the water, Lu and La come up to the surface, each taking a turn demanding strokes on the tops of their heads. When she is done greeting them she sets the two grapefruit slices in the water before heading to the bathroom.

Striping all of her clothing and dropping them in the washing basket, she gets the shower going before brushing her teeth so it can warm. When she climbs in, the hot pulse of the shower head feels wonderful. The tenseness of her muscles after spending nearly twenty hours in the morgue starts to fade. With it, her mind clears, allowing her to turn her attention to the problem at hand.

How is she ever going to handle being married to a man who is so formal and tense around her? The other three easily relax in her presence, hell her fellow doctor and the detective inspector even flirt occasionally though she had never expected it to go anywhere.

Shaking her head, she turns her attention back to Mycroft, ignoring the John or Greg situations.

She guesses he is good looking, he’s not her ideal, but then none of them really are. Of course, that ideal would work better if it was based on a real person and not a fantasy. She had never really planned to marry, and if she did, she expected that the relationship would be mostly platonic, not sexual. So this whole situation of having to marry four people to marry was frustrating. Again, she reminds herself to stay on topic. Even with the suits, he sometimes looks a bit gaunt, like he has an eating disorder, but she cannot see her fellow doctor allowing that for too long. In fact, now that she thinks about it, she is sure that he in the last few months he has not been varying as bad.

Shaking her head, she draws out of her mind to realize the water is getting cold.

Grabbing a towel, she quickly dries off before heading into her room where she digs her softest pair of pajamas out and curls up in them on her bed. A moment later her tabby is stretched out on her pillows beside her and her bird is perched on the headboard behind her.

“Should I work on my journals and notes tonight or wait until morning?” she asks the two animals as she starts petting the cat.

Toby mers in response, moving to lay on top her arm so she will not move.

Cleo flies over to the light switch, using one of her claws to press it down and turn it off.

Giggling, she pulls the blankets over herself, still slowly petting the now purring cat as she drifts off to sleep.

The feeling of hands skimming over her body brings her back to awareness. Her eyes snap open and she finds herself staring at Sherlock, trying to understand what is going on. She is not in her room and she was pretty sure that she went to sleep in her own bed.

“What…” she tries to ask only to be silenced when he kisses her, long and thoroughly. It leaves her breathless and a bit aroused.

Before she has a chance to respond further, he is pulling back and away. Turning on his heel and striding from the room without another word. She does not know why he did that, only that he did. It leaves her questioning what she did wrong. Her eyes drift shut as the exhaustion that caused her to fall asleep originally strikes again.

The next thing she knows it is several hours have passed and once more she is waking to the feel of hands on her once more. Hands in spots she would rather they not be. Blunt fingers trace the muscles of her stomach down her legs. Past her knees before slowly trailing up the inside of her leg to stop just before the crook between leg and torso, so very close to her private areas. She keeps her eyes squeezed tightly shut, not wanting to see who it is now in her bed.

“Open your eyes Molly,” she hears the soft, husky order as the hands tighten slightly.

Slowly her eyes open and she realizes she is still in that room she does not know. Only now she is bare, all of her clothes gone, her hands bound to the headboard and John between her legs. He is sitting on his knees. Hands resting on her legs, his thumbs slowly stroking her skin, his blue-gray eyes are watching her seriously, while a small smile tugs at his lips.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs when she tries to ask what is going on. “This is required. I will make it good for you.”

Eyes wide, she is not sure what he means, until he leans forward, firm lips pressing lightly against the skin of her stomach directly below her belly button. Slowly those lips work their way further downwards until his breath is ghosting over the tight curls of her pubis. He keeps going lower, until his hands gently separate the folds of most intimate spot before lightly blowing on it. A shiver passes through her body as he leans the rest of the way in, his flat tongue barely touching her as he drags it across her folds.

A low moan escapes her lips as he sets to work exploring every inch of her in the most intimate fashion. It feels wonderful and awkward and her hips rock into the contact even though she is not sure whether she wants this or not. She has just crested the peak when he sits back. It is at that point that she realizes he is still dressed. Embarrassed, she reaches for a blanket to cover herself up because she is feeling extremely exposed only she cannot because her hands are still bound making her start to feel anxious.

“Shhh, calm down, remember this is required,” he repeats before changing how they are positioned so that the tip of his cock is lined up with her wet folds and slowly pressing forward.

She closes her eyes, not wanting to be awake for this.

Only the feeling of being filled never happens and his soft voice croons, “Shhh, Molly, rest, go to sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Since she is sleepy after her orgasm, she listens to that soft voice and drifts off hoping her arms will be untied when she wakes up and she will be in her own bed once more.

When she wakes up again John is gone. Instead it is Mycroft, he is seated in a chair she had not noticed earlier, his stormy eyes watching her with an unreadable expression.

She is thankful that she is dressed and under the blankets once more. Glancing around, she realizes that she is in a different room again. Yet another one she is pretty sure she has never been in before.

"The specimen is physically fit, of the proper age, and with decent physical features." The spook remarks as she stares at him.

"I don't understand," she mutters in confusion.

He arches an eyebrow at her, as if to say she is being foolish.

Slowly standing, he sets to striping off his suit without another word. Each motion precises and clinical. A small part of her is scared as to what he is going to do once all of his clothes are off. Closing her eyes, she wills herself back to sleep. This has to be a dream. This whole thing has to be a dream. No way would they act like that.

The next time she wakes up she is in her own bed at home. Toby is laying across her arms, his furry body sticking to her because she's sweating.

Pushing her cat away as she sits up,  she rubs her eyes sleepily.

"That was an odd dream," she mutters grumpily, "I don't think they would act like that."

Glancing at the clock she discovers she was only asleep for a little over an hour. Despite how tired she had been prior to going to bed, she was now wide awake. Sighing,she sits up, reaching for her lamp to turn it on. Once the soft light is flooding the room, she glances about, trying to decide if she wants to get something to drink or get her writing supplies out.

“Writing or drink?” she asks the two animals, waking the violet bird from her slumber.

Squawking softly, the bird’s wings flare out as she nearly tumbles from her perch before righting herself. The look Cleo gives her is rather amusing in an indignant bird fashion.

“Drink it is,” she remarks as she climbs off the bed and heads to the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea. She will not be going back to sleep any time soon. While the water is heating up, she goes to pet her koi. Lu headbutts her hand several times, her gleaming yellow and black scales shimmering differently outside of the water than they did in the water. “Well beautiful, you are just full of headbutts and wanting pets, aren’t you?”

A moment later La is pushing her tank mate out of the way and butting her white, red, and black flecked head against her hand. 

Smiling, she lifts her other hand and sets to petting both of them. When they are done wanting attention, they return to swimming in the lower part of their tank, playing with each other.

Chuckling at their antics, she heads to the kitchen to check and see if her water is ready. After making her pot of tea, grabbing a cup, her sugar container, and setting them on her tray, she carries it to her room where she sets it on her night table before collecting her journals and pens about the situation. Once she is resituated, she opens her journal and writes out the dream before she moves on to writing in each of the other journals. She has more she needs to write in on the men who are about to be a large part of her life, particularly Mycroft and Greg.


End file.
